


Dean Is Not a Brony

by SurlyCat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Animals, Awkward Dates, Classic Car Appreciation, Description of veterinary procedure, Detective Dean Winchester, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Hurt Dean Winchester, Inexperienced Castiel, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Miscommunication, Sassy Castiel, Seriously it's a giant ball of fluff, Sexual Content, Sleeping Together, Veterinarian Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-27 23:18:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2710328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SurlyCat/pseuds/SurlyCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU prompt: There's only one table left at the cafe, and Dean really really wants it, despite the guy that's already heading for it.</p><p>Wherein Dean makes an ass of himself to get the table, Cas is gracious, there's a dog with an unfortunate name, and these two dorks figure out a relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beginte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beginte/gifts).



> This is a gift for both [Beginte](http://beginte.tumblr.com), and [Motherofallprocrastinators](http://motherofallprocrastinators.tumblr.com). One prompted for the busy cafe, and the other for some Veternarian!Cas, and I thought why not smoosh them together? Plus, someone really just needs to give Cas some critters already, amIright? Hope you enjoy this fluffy fluff cheese fest, yall.

It may not be a point of pride, but Dean is sort of a…stress eater, and right now, he's pretty sure he'd be willing to do any number of dubious things to get his hands on a piece of pie. The scent of fresh-baked _everything_ wafts into the street from a door only a few yards away, curling at his nose like one of those ghostly cartoon fingers, and Dean quickens his pace.

When Dean walks into the quaint little bakery, he could swear he nearly gets a contact buzz- if such a thing were possible- from the much more concentrated scent of pastries and bread and fruit and spice. The place is packed with the morning rush, but Dean doesn't mind waiting; he has a little less than an hour to kill before he has to go to the bank, just down the block.

The line is moving faster than he expected, likely due to the fact that this particular bakery only serves plain old auto-drip coffee, which in some odd way endears Dean to the place automatically. _Yeah, you do your thing, little bakery. Nothin' wrong with the classics,_ Dean thinks to himself with an inward, approving nod. Still though, he can't help but glance repeatedly to the seating area, where the tables are filling up quickly. There are only two tables left, and four people in line ahead of him.

Three of those four are a group of middle-aged women that are all chatting easily together, clearly meeting up to eat together, and a dude in front of him whose age is a complete mystery from the back. Working the probability for a moment, Dean goes ahead and counts on the women snagging one of the two tables, but the dude is a wildcard. The man's wearing a long-sleeve button-down dress shirt and navy pinstriped slacks, so in all likelihood, probably a tie, too: all the universal signs for businessman. Dean absently notes that the guy has a really nice ass as his eyes wander downward, to look at his shoes. If they're blatantly expensive, then the man probably holds a high-pressure and high-paying job that means he'd likely get his order and head straight to his office.

When Dean's eyes reach the floor, he almost laughs out loud in surprise when he sees that the man is wearing the last thing he'd expected: a pair of bright blue converse. Okay, so maybe not a businessman. While interesting, it does nothing to abate Dean's concern over snagging a table, and especially when the chatty women migrate over to one of them as he'd predicted.

Once the guy gets his order, he heads over toward the little cream and sugar station, and in Dean's mind, it has now become a race to get that table, since no one in the place seems keen on leaving any time soon. If he doesn't get the table, he's going to end up walking around with a piece of pie and nowhere to eat it; the nearest bench that he knows of was at least two blocks back, close to the park, and like hell is he going to back track so he can eat pie in the park like a sad hobo.

"Heya. Just need a piece of that blueberry pie and a bottled water, please," Dean says in a rush when he gets to the counter, adding a polite smile before darting his eyes over to the dude. Thank goodness the place is up to date enough to have one of those card readers where you just pass your card over it.

The dude is throwing away a sugar packet and stirring efficiently. Dean looks to the worker, watching her set the pie on the counter where she pulled it from the case, also moving efficiently. Stupidly, Dean feels a light sheen of sweat prickling his neck as he switches his gaze between the dude, who- thankfully, time wise- is now adding cream to his coffee, and the lady who is plating up the pie slice. The dude's tasting his coffee, and the worker's now grabbing a bottled water and Dean's plate. It's down to the wire now, as the dude looks satisfied with his concoction and reaches for the lid to his cup, and Dean's pie is being bustled back up to the counter.

The moment the lady sets his order down, Dean all but snatches it up, grateful that she already included a fork, as that's one less stop he has to make. Lightning quick, Dean double-checks to make sure the table is empty even though he's already walking toward it. The dude now has the lid on his coffee and is definitely eyeballing the table. For whatever reason, the dude looks up and they make eye contact, and Dean can't help but pause briefly, as the guy's eyes flick to the table before coming back to Dean.

It's an odd moment that feels an awful lot like a conversation, though it only lasts maybe a whole two seconds, before something subtle lights the guy's eyes. _You've got to be kidding me. He is not freakin'_ challenging _me to the table,_ Dean groans in his own head.

The moment is gone as fast as it arrived though, when the guy moves to take a step, and something primal and childishly competitive beats at Dean's chest. This isn't just a scurry to get the last table. No, with that one flash of a look, the dude officially made it the race that Dean had thought it to be, and Dean quickens his steps as politely as possible without running. To Dean's dismay, the guy speeds up too, and wow, this must be what those crazy people stampeding through stores on Black Friday must feel like.

Weaving his way over far more gracefully than Dean, the guy gets hampered by having to go around an odd chair sticking out, and Dean can almost taste the victory. But because the universe is _not_ Dean Winchester's friend, his foot finds what is probably the only napkin on the entire floor, and he ends up skidding and flailing, only narrowly avoiding busting his ass and somehow also saving his pie.

He ignores the gasps of the patrons that witness the miracle of a recovery, too caught up in the fact that the dude used Dean's literal misstep to his advantage, and is now happily plunking his ass down at the coveted table. And it's so much worse, because Dean is literally less than three feet away from the table now. One freakin' step.

Dean's heart is beating wildly, between the excitement from his ridiculous little alpha male display, and the adrenaline of nearly dying because of a stupid piece of paper, and he suddenly feels overwhelmingly embarrassed at his behavior. He's all set to turn tail and escape with what little dignity he can muster, but for whatever reason, decides to take one more glance at the guy. Dean expects to see some sort of smug triumph or maybe even feigned nonchalance, but is instead greeted with an odd mixture of concern, amusement, and sheepishness. The sheepishness would be harder to detect, if it weren't for the pinking of the guy's cheeks.

 _Good. At least I'm not the only one feeling like an ass,_ Dean thinks as he turns to leave. But then a deep gravelly voice pipes up that sends an odd shiver down his spine.

"You don't have to go."

Dean turns back around to confirm that that impossible voice had come from the table-stealing asshat, validated when he sees the openly sheepish look now, and cheeks that are definitely redder than they were a moment ago.

As if they have a mind of their own, Dean's feet move him that step closer to the table, but he doesn't really know why, or what he should do once he's there. The invitation to sit down was pretty implicit, but with no desire to make a fool of himself yet again, Dean waits for the guy to say something more obvious. His skepticism must be written all over his face, because the guy offers him a tight lipped smile and gestures at the chair that Dean's awkwardly hovering by.

"If you'd like to sit down, that's fine, if you don't mind sharing the table with me," the guy says, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away.

Okay, so maybe the guy isn't _really_ an asshat, if he's trying to make peace or whatever. Plus, after so much work, Dean really doesn't want to slink away into sad hobo status, when the table is _right there._

"Uh…thanks," he mutters, setting his things down first, then pulling the chair out and flopping down.

They sit in awkward silence for a minute, as the guy spreads cream cheese on his bagel with the same meticulous attention he'd paid his coffee. Now that he's sitting down, Dean is distinctly aware of the tightness of his own tie, and the way he feels slightly over warmed from the tension of the last five minutes. Figuring he can fix it before he leaves, Dean loosens his tie and pops a button on his shirt, sighing at that the sliver of relief it brings him.

"Long night?" the guy asks, seemingly apropos of nothing.

"No," Dean drawls, turning it up in a question at the end.

The guy knits his brows in confusion and tilts his head as he looks at Dean with blatant curiosity. He looks like he wants to say something, but thinks better of it and takes a sip of his coffee.

"Say it," Dean pushes, now curious himself.

The guy ponders the sincerity of Dean's request for a moment, and seeming to decide that Dean isn't angry, responds.

"Well, you're eating pie at seven o'clock in the morning and just loosened your tie as if you've been wearing it for some time, so I thought maybe you were coming off of a night shift somewhere or something," the guy says with a little shrug.

If only Dean had a good excuse like that.

"No, I'm just not used to wearing a tie…they make me feel a little choked. And I have an hour to kill and just wanted some pie," Dean says with his own shrug.

The guy nods his understanding and takes a bite of his bagel, satisfied with Dean's explanation. They eat in a semi-awkward silence for a minute before the guy utilizes the oldest trick in the book and pulls out his phone. Dean's own phone doesn't do anything 'cool', being the old-ass flip phone that he's had for the last five years, so he doesn't have anything to focus on besides his pie and the dude.

He can eat pie in his sleep, so Dean takes a moment to actually look at his tablemate, and realizes that the guy is actually pretty damned attractive. He looks to be only a couple of years older than himself maybe, with a nice strong jawline and straight nose, artfully maintained scruff, and a thick head of dark brown hair that looks like it met with only a very mild attempt at taming that day. Dean realizes he must have been staring for too long when the guy looks up, and now that he's really looking, he sees that the guy's eyes are just short of unnaturally blue. Jesus, they're ridiculous.

The guy lifts a questioning brow, but doesn't look put off by Dean's staring, thankfully. It occurs to him that not only has he been fairly unsociable to the guy, but that also, it's kind of weird continuing to call him 'the guy' and 'the dude' in his head.

"I'm Dean, by the way," he says amiably, setting his fork down and sticking his hand out over the table with a small smile.

"Castiel," the guy says, taking Dean's hand. "But most people call me Cas," he says with his own small grin.

Dean can see why most people would call him by the shorter name, though he kind of likes the unique first name. Cas' hand is warm and dry in his own, the skin slightly rough, as if he washes his hands a lot. They both seem to realize that the handshake has gone on slightly longer than is socially appropriate and pull away at the same moment. It gives Dean an inkling, but it's not enough to tell him whether he can get away with flirting with this stranger or not, so he decides to test the waters.

"So Cas…do you like to race old ladies to the last seat in the subway, too?" Dean asks with a slightly more than friendly smirk.

Cas scrubs a hand over his face as he sighs in embarrassment.

"I'll admit that wasn't my finest moment," Cas says, scratching absently as the scruff covering his throat.

The motion draws Dean's eye, and damn, that's a nice neck. He can't help but wonder what it would be like to get his mouth on it. Would Cas make breathy little gasps, or full out moan? Or maybe he's like Dean and more sensitive closer to his ears.

In the next instant, Cas' thumb is stroking over the tendon, right where Dean's eyes had come to rest, and Dean snaps out of it. He doesn't know whether the action was a self-conscious gesture at Dean's staring, or some subconscious thing and looks up to meet Cas' eyes. Those blue orbs are looking right back at him with a subtle sort of interest that spawns the realization that Cas seems to be testing the waters, too. Awesome.

"You should take pride in your victory, Cas," Dean grins, throwing out a bit more charm. "I'm competitive as hell and don’t back down easily from a challenge," he says, laying it on even thicker.

"Oh really?" Cas smirks, leaning forward slightly. "I wouldn't have guessed," he says lightly, looking up at Dean through his lashes with a charming little tilt of his head.

Oh yeah, Cas is definitely flirting, and Dean is definitely enjoying it. Not that he really expects anything to come of it, but it's still fun regardless.

"I'm not sure whether you're being sarcastic or implying that I'm not that competitive," Dean says honestly, but he doesn't really care what the answer is either way.

Cas chuckles and winks as he leans back to take a bite of his bagel, leaving Dean's question purposely unanswered. And if there was any doubt that Cas was flirting, that little wink certainly put it to rest. It's been longer than Dean cares to think about since he had a conversation like this with a man outside of a bar, and realizes with a sort of wistfulness that he's missed it more than he thought.

They each finish up their food in a much more comfortable silence than minutes before, and now Dean really envies Cas of his coffee as he watches the man take a sip.

"May I ask you something, Dean?"

"Shoot."

Cas looks like he's suppressing a grin when he speaks his question.

"Did you order the water specifically so you wouldn't have to waste time fixing a cup of coffee up?"

Damn. Now that it's being pointed out, Dean internally cringes a bit and great- now he's freakin' blushing.

"Uhhhh…maybe?" he says, purposely grimacing.

Whatever restraint Cas had been using to hold back his smile crumbles at Dean's confession, and a toothy grin spreads over his face that transforms him from handsome to gorgeous instantly.

"Damn. I think that technically makes you the winner, then, for all your preparation. I didn't even realize what was happening til way after that," Cas says, still smiling.

"Yeah? What's my prize?" Dean asks boldly.

Cas shoots him a combined amused and unimpressed look at the obviousness of Dean's wording.

"You get to go order a cup of coffee without worrying about losing your table," Cas says easily.

The man knows full well that Dean's enjoying his company and would like to keep talking, and his confidence in himself is immensely appealing to Dean. Truthfully, Dean usually ends up in exchanges like this with men that are either confident to the point of cocky, or shy to the point that Dean has to do all the work. By comparison, Cas is easy-going, and it's incredibly refreshing.

"Thanks, man. I really do need some coffee. You need a refill?" Dean asks.

"I'd better not. Thank you, though," Cas says with a soft smile.

Dean wants to ask why not, but figures that the man would've elaborated if he'd wanted to. And they're just strangers sharing a table in a bakery, so there's no sense in getting all nosy.

Once he's got his coffee in hand and sugared the way he likes it, Dean takes his seat back at the table. Cas glances up from his phone for a moment with a tiny little grin and goes back to typing furiously into the device. He pauses for a while, then seeming satisfied, taps the screen with a nod and sets his phone on the table.

"Sorry about that," he says. "I'm not normally so rude, but work happens," he shrugs.

"It's fine," Dean says easily. "You don't owe me anything."

Cas looks at him curiously for that, but doesn't comment.

"I do have my own question now," Dean says, lifting his brows. Cas mimics him, so Dean takes it as a go-ahead. "What's with the shoes? I mean, with the outfit," he gestures vaguely.

Cas smirks a little. "You don’t miss anything, do you?" He asks, though it sounds somewhat fond, oddly. "Well, I happen to be a little attached to this pair, and I'm my own boss so I wear what I want."

Now Dean is definitely intrigued, but he still doesn't know if he has a right to ask a personal life question like what Cas does for a living, so he drops it.

"What about you? You said you don't normally do ties, so what's your deal?" Cas asks bluntly.

"Got a meeting that I'm kinda nervous about, here in a little bit," Dean says vaguely. Because explaining that you're currently about to go sing and dance for a bank manager so you can get a loan to buy a house is definitely a bit personal. "Normally I'm relegated to just the button-up, but I'm off work today."

Cas looks just as curious as Dean feels, but seems to be on the same page about not knowing whether he should ask anything.

"Well, I'm sure you'll do fine. If nothing else, you have your smile in your arsenal," Cas says, lifting his brows playfully.

The compliment warms Dean, and he can't help the blush that creeps up for it.

"Thanks," he mutters, trying not to grin like an idiot, and only halfway succeeding. He can feel Cas' eyes on him and has to look down, hoping that Cas doesn't take his grin for cockiness. "Not so bad yourself," he says quietly.

In his peripheral he sees Cas lean back and stretch a little bit, and then the inside of Cas' calf 'accidentally' brushes against his own. Dean can't help but look up, and when he does, there's a tentative gleam in the other man's eye, as if daring Dean to pull away from the contact. So of course, Dean rises to the challenge, taking it a step further by shifting a little so that his own leg is squarely between Cas', and even resting against one of them. Cas looks at once surprised and pleased at the contact.

"Since you seem to notice everything, what do think that girl's story is over there?" Cas asks quietly, tilting his head toward the object of his question, sitting a few tables away from them.

Dean likes these kinds of games even when he isn't at work, so he peeks over, taking in the details of the other patron for a minute, everything from the way she's dressed to her body language. Once he feels like he has enough info to go on, Dean leans forward so he can speak quietly, and Cas leans in too.

"She hasn't been to bed yet, but not because she isn't tired. I'd think insomniac, if it weren't for the fact that she's writing in that journal like her life depends on it. That says to me that she's up because she rolled out while she was upset last night and is avoiding going home, not wanting to see whoever it is. She doesn't want to impose on anyone though, so she writes to deal with it instead of calling up a friend. Trying to figure herself out, before going to someone else to confirm that she's right about whatever it is."

"How could you possibly get all of that?" Cas asks, eyes wide.

"I could be totally wrong," Dean shrugs. "But her makeup is too fresh to have slept in, and not fresh enough to have been put on recently. Her posture's hunched like she's tired, but her face is all kinds of focused on what she's writing. Plus, that makes the second time in a couple of minutes now, that she's laid her pen down to shake out her hand. Means she's been writing faster than normal or gripping the pen too tight, so whatever it is has her fired up enough that she's hurting her hand and wrist trying to get it out."

Cas darts his eyes between the girl and Dean a few times, before sitting back up and humming thoughtfully to himself. "What about me?" he asks curiously.

"Nope," Dean says quickly, shaking his head.

"What do you mean, _nope_?" Cas asks.

"I've already made an ass of myself once today and stand to do it again here in a minute. Definitely don't need to add a third time to the list if I'm all kinds of wrong," Dean says.

Cas pulls an unimpressed face and crosses his arms over his chest. "I'm just curious, and I won't be mad if you're wrong," he pushes. "Being wrong doesn't make someone an ass. Being an ass makes someone an ass."

"You calling me an ass?" Dean teases.

"You're evading," Cas fires back with a smirk. "And no, I'm not, but I'm sure you have that tendency when you want to."

Dean chuckles and nods his agreement, amused by this feistier side of the man, and especially when he pushes his legs together to squeeze pleadingly at Dean's leg where it's still trapped between Cas'. Dean sighs as he takes in the pouty look taking over Cas' features, knowing that he's going to cave.

"Fine," Dean says, noting the way Cas' face immediately brightens in tentative curiosity. "You really want me to do the thing?"

Cas nods with a crooked grin. "Yes, do the thing."

Dean can't help but grin a little at Cas' eagerness and clears his throat.

"Alright, then. You're stubborn. Not in a narrow-minded way, though, just in that you're kind of set in your ways on some things. Self-disciplined and responsible in general, but can be a bit impulsive or reckless when you get a wild hair. You don't worry much about your appearance because you've got other things on your mind, but you also know that your look works for you, so that's your second reason for not putting too much energy into it. Sentimental, to a degree, because of the shoes. Your hand was kind of dry, so I figure you wash your hands a lot, probably for work. Where most people would've licked the cream cheese off their finger earlier, you wiped it off, but you're too laid-back to be a stickler for table manners. Combine that with the hand washing, and I'm guessing either food industry, or medical, because you're in the habit of keeping your hands away from your mouth."

Cas blinks owlishly at him for a moment, before a smile spreads slowly across his face.

"What the hell do you do for a living?" he asks, face awed.

"I'm a detective at the third precinct," Dean admits, a little nervous. He feels pretty confident in his assessment of the man in front of him, but hopes he didn't step on his toes. And he doesn't care to share about his own work; privacy isn't something he really gets, working with the public like that.

Cas leans forward, face full of interest. "Well that explains it, then. Have you ever considered profile work? Because that was…startlingly accurate. I'm not sure what that says about me, though."

Relief that Cas isn't offended, and pride in being right rolls over Dean like warm water.

"If you're worried about being an open book, don't. This is just what I do," Dean shrugs. "And I thought about profiling for a minute, but I'm just not down for the extra schooling. Plus, I like being in the field too much."

Cas nods and opens his mouth to say something, but an obnoxiously demanding ringtone starts trilling from his phone, demanding his attention. He utters a quick 'sorry', before answering the call. He doesn't even have time to get out a greeting before the person on the other end of the line is talking, and whatever they have to say has his brows furrowing in concern. In the next instant, he's standing up from his seat.

"Okay, I'll be there in ten, so be ready for me," Cas says, then hangs up and pockets his phone. He speaks to Dean then, gathering his things with efficient movements as he does so.

"Sorry to cut this short, but I'm afraid I have a patient in labor. It's been a pleasure talking to you, though," he says, sparing Dean a quick but sincere grin. As he rounds the table to make for the door, he pauses to reach out and give Dean's bicep a little squeeze. "And good luck with your meeting."

And just like that, Cas is nearly running out the door, pulling his keys from his pocket as he goes. Dean checks his own phone and sees that he has five minutes to get to the bank and stands up to take care of his own business, mind already re-focusing into what lies ahead. Whether it's due to having had time to calm down, or because he's still feeling the high of a pleasant encounter, Dean doesn't know, but he's certainly glad that his nerves have worn off. He walks out of the bakery feeling much more confident than he did when he got there, and heads straight toward the bank.


	2. Chapter 2

Two weeks have passed since the random bakery incident, and life has been a bit of a whirlwind for Dean. The meeting with the bank had gone better than expected, and within a week he was closing on his house. After that, he'd gone straight to his apartment and started making the calls to get all the utilities transferred and rent out a moving truck. The actual moving process was a fairly short thing, considering that Dean had never really _lived_ in his apartment, so there wasn't actually all that much to move. If anything, it took longer to paint and get an exterminator out to do a pre-emptive round of spraying than anything. It also didn't hurt that Dean guilted Sam into helping, because his brother definitely owed him one.

Sam had been dating this girl named Ruby for like two seconds, but Sam had fallen hard for her, despite Dean's constant warnings that she was trouble. Within two weeks she had moved in with Sam, and within three months had drained his bank account and nearly got Sam arrested when she started selling drugs out of the apartment while he was gone to work during the day. There were several more small things she did to get under Dean's skin, but those were the majors that really grinded his gears. Once Ruby had drained Sam of pretty much every resource, she took off in the middle of the night and wasn't heard from again, though her clientele didn't quite get the message.

After two weeks of some rather concerning threats, Sam finally had to move and get a P.O. box and practically start over, new phone number and all. In his haste to get out, Sam really didn't have the opportunity to be too picky, so he took what he could get. Unfortunately, this meant that the place he found didn't accept pets. And this is how Dean ended up with a puffball of a creature that the world insisted on calling a dog, but he was certain was more Tribble than anything.

Dean isn't exactly a fan of small dogs. In his experience, they tend to be temperamental, high maintenance, and yippy, and it's just not his thing. If he had to pick a pet, a cat would probably be more his speed, if he weren't allergic to them; feed and water them, pet them a few times a day, and they're good to go. But as it is, Dean has been cohabitating with the Tribble for nearly a month now and almost, _almost_ has sort of maybe…bonded with it. A little.

As far as tiny dogs go, this one isn't actually all that bad, but Dean still isn't pleased that he's stuck looking after freakin' _Ruby's_ dog. If Dean weren't such a sucker for Sam's stupid puppy-dog face, the little thing would've been taken to the animal shelter the moment Sam had signed his new lease.

_"But Dean, you know we don't have a no-kill shelter here. Dash is an unneutered mutt, so what do you think the chances are that anybody would take him before his time's up? It's not his fault he was abandoned. And he's a sweet little guy, and you know it. Plus, he already kind of likes you, and you're allowed pets at your place."_

Between the fact that it was a frustratingly good argument, Sam's stupid face, and the fact that Dean isn't a completely callous jerk, the decision was made. Not that there wasn't a lot of grumbling and frowning and 'you owe me' sentiments, but all the same, Dash officially had a home with Dean until he could find someone to take the dog. He'd hoped to have this taken care of before moving to the new house, but so far, no takers.

This is how Dean ends up staring down with equal parts concern and disgust, at the mostly-Pomeranian on a Friday afternoon, as it scoots its little ass across his brand new rug, right next to the couch. Dash, for his part, just grunts and looks somewhere between relieved and frantic as he scoots far faster than Dean would've expected him capable of.

"Oh come on, man! Do you seriously have to do that right where my feet go?" Dean asks.

Dash stops at the sound of Dean's voice and looks up at him pitifully, before twisting around to chew at the approximate area where his ass must be; it's hard to tell with all the fur. After a moment of this, Dash tries to hop up on the couch to sit with Dean as he's become prone to, but Dean is absolutely not having it today.

"Sorry little dude, but you're not getting up here if you've got worms," he says, gently placing the dog back on the floor. Undeterred, Dash tries three more times, before Dean finally has to put him in the bathroom, so he can start looking up veterinarians without having to worry about the furniture. The whine that emits from the bathroom is more than a little upsetting, though Dean doesn't like to think about it.

It's already going on five in the afternoon- and a Friday at that- so Dean doubts that he can get Dash in to see anyone, but he at least has to try. After no less than six calls, Dean is close to giving up and just planning to wait it out til Monday, when he sees one last listing, that boasts being open later, and for a half day on Saturdays. Unsurprisingly, no one can see Dash tonight, but the lady on the phone informs him that he might be able to get in the next day if he gets there early enough; they don't take appointments on Saturdays and it's first come, first serve.

Once he's hung up, Dean takes a few minutes to drape some old sheets over the couch and recliner and close the door to his bedroom before letting Dash out of the bathroom. And maybe Dean feels a little guilty about having left the little pipsqueak alone in there, when he sees the tremble in Dash's frame as he flies out of the room and paws at Dean's leg.

"I know, I didn't want to do that, bud, sorry about that," Dean says as he crouches down to scratch between the dog's ears. "We're gonna try and get you fixed up tomorrow though, alright? Just gotta make it through tonight," he says soothingly.

The dog nuzzles and licks at Dean's hand, and dammit, it's kind of cute. Dean sighs and stands back up, already dreading having to get up early in the morning.

* * *

It's only just going on seven in the morning, and already there are four people waiting outside the front door to the vet's office when he pulls up. By the time he's gotten Dash's carrier out of the back seat and locked up his car, a staff member is unlocking the door and everyone's filing inside. When it's his turn to step up to the desk, he internally cringes at the far too perky demeanor of the girl that greets him from the other side as she asks how she can help him; Becky, her nametag reads.

"Hiya Becky. I think my dog has worms…been scootin' his butt on my rug," Dean says bluntly. For some twisted reason, he kind of hopes that his frank explanation will turn down the brightness on the sunshine that's blowing out of her ass. Unfortunately, all it serves to do is turn her cheerfulness into some obnoxious sympathetic cooing as she leans over the counter to look at the carrier.

"Alright, then, Mr.-" she trails off.

"Winchester," he supplies. She nods her acknowledgement as she clicks at the keys of her keyboard.

"Has your little fella been here before?"

"I don't know, honestly. Long story short, my brother couldn't keep him, so I'm looking after him til I can find a new home for him," Dean says with a nod toward the carrier.

"What's his name? I can try looking it up, and see if we have his file here. That would help a lot so we at least could see if he's got any medical history," Becky explains.

"Dash."

Becky makes an unnecessary 'awwww' sound, and types the name in, before pursing her lips.

"The only Dash we have is a cat," she says, still clicking away.

"Um, there's one other name you can try. His full name is Rainbow Dash," Dean admits quietly, glancing around to make sure no one's heard. Ruby…may have thought it would be hilarious to try and get Sam to call out the name, but as whipped as he'd been, it hadn't worked and the dog had thusly been called Dash. It just so happened to work out that the dog could run at startling speeds.

Becky pulls a disapproving face, and eyes Dean up and down as if he'd just admitted to sneezing on buffets for kicks. It bristles at him, being judged so openly for the dog's name, even if it is totally douchey and nothing that Dean had had any part in. He gives her a glare, and Becky sighs as she returns to the task at hand.

"Is Rainbow Dash," she begins with some sorted of pointed emphasis on the name, "a Pomeranian mix, by chance?"

"Yep."

"He's a patient here, alright. Mr. Winchester, did you know that we are owed $128 for services rendered two months ago?" Becky asks, tone now clipped.

Dean barely refrains from groaning; of course Ruby would run up a bill at the one vet's office out of fifteen or so in the area that Dean chooses to go to.

"No, I was not aware," he says tiredly. "Would the name associated happen to be Ruby?"

Becky looks between the screen and Dean, and he knows that she's debating whether she's allowed to share the information, which is answer enough. Scrubbing a hand over his face, Dean sighs.

"Just…add it to whatever's done today, and I'll pay the whole thing off on the way out," he says tiredly.

"I don't know that I can allow that, seeing as the balance has already been sent to collections on a different name."

"Look, I'm just gonna tell you right now that you'll never get your money that way. So how about you just do whatever you gotta do to call off the hounds, and let me be a nice guy and pay it off," Dean says, already losing patience.

For whatever reason, Becky narrows her eyes at him and frowns harder at him for a moment, before picking up the phone and making an intra-office call to what he can only assume must be the billing specialist. After a moment she hangs up and turns back to him.

"Okay, we can do that, but we're going to need you to fill out this form and update the billing information for this patient," Becky says, still eyeing him suspiciously

Dean's had about enough of this girl's attitude and gives a sarcastic little bow as she hands over a clipboard, throwing in a hand mime of tipping a hat while he's at it. Her face twists up in disgust and Dean gives her nasty little smile before he turns and collects Dash on his way to the waiting area. There's no telling what the rest of the staff is like; they might all be perfectly polite and knowledgeable, but if coming here again means having to deal with freakin' Judgy McJudgerson, then this'll be the last time he sets foot in this office.

Mood effectively ruffled, Dean fills out the paperwork quickly and returns it with a sarcastic smile before waiting his turn in his own little uncomfortable plastic chair. He decides to take a moment to assess the room to see if he can glean an idea of how long he'll be waiting. So far, there's a woman with a kitten bundled in a towel, eyes crusty and ears twitching with what's probably a flea infestation, so likely a stray she picked up that just needs some meds for its eyes and maybe some shots and an exam. There's also a pit bull that looks utterly miserable and with little will to move; it must be old, and Dean grimaces for the distraught looking older man that's petting it. There's also a young woman with a guinea pig, and a dude about Dean's age with what appears to be a very pregnant beagle.

He figures that the pit bull will probably take the longest because it'll likely require some lab work, but the other three should be in and out fairly quickly, depending on what's wrong with the guinea pig. Good. The sooner Dean can get the hell out of here, the better. Dash whines and yips from his carrier at Dean's feet, so he sticks a couple of fingers through the little wire door, smiling a bit when he feels Dash's tiny little tongue lick at his fingertips.

"I know, little dude. But I don't think we'll be here very long. We'll get you all fixed up and go home in just in a little while," he says, voice low and calm.

Dash laps at Dean's fingers even more enthusiastically when he hears his owner's voice, and Dean snorts softly as he pulls his hand back. "Alright, alright now. I kind of need my skin, you know. Can't go licking it off."

Mostly satisfied at the acknowledgement, Dash shuffles around in his carrier and settles down in one corner while they wait. It's about twenty minutes before Dash's name is called, and they're led back to an exam room by a brunette that's much more polite than Becky, but not necessarily over-friendly, either.

"My name is Hannah, by the way, and I'll be looking aft-"

She's cut off by the loud wail of what must be an enormous dog somewhere deeper in the building, and then her name being called for assistance. With an apologetic grin, Hannah excuses herself with a promise to return in a few minutes, not even bothering to close the door that opens to the hallway that leads to the procedure rooms. Dean takes Dash out of the carrier, and the dog is immediately glad to curl up in Dean's lap, snuggled close to his stomach. Petting the dog absently, Dean spaces out for a while as he waits, considering what all he needs to do before work later that day.

His eyes are fixed on an old scuffmark by the doorway while his mind drifts, so it's no surprise when he immediately notices the appearance of two bright blue converse-wearing feet right over the scuff. He blinks rapidly in confusion at the familiar sight and darts his eyes up, somehow completely unprepared for the sight of Cas, despite the warning with the shoes.

Cas is in a set of maroon scrubs today, and his eyes are scanning over what is presumably Dash's file.

"Cas?" Dean asks, still a bit confused. When Cas had said he had a patient in labor, Dean had assumed _human_ patient.

Head snapping up at his name, Cas' expression goes from confusion to surprise almost instantly, before a bright smile takes over his features.

"You are definitely not a Brony," Cas blurts, looking relieved for some reason. What the hell is a Brony?

"What?"

"Oh, uh, sorry. It's nothing. It is nice to see you, though," Cas says earnestly. "So tell me what's going on with," his lips twitch in an effort not to laugh, "Rainbow Dash, here."

"Yeah, yeah. Go ahead and laugh. I'm not the one that named the poor guy, and I just call him Dash," Dean says, blushing.

Cas takes the offer and lets out a snort of laughter. Dean rolls his eyes good-naturedly and stands up to put Dash on the exam table.

"So I'm thinking he might have worms, but I have no clue how he would've gotten them because he only goes outside when I take him for a walk and I haven't seen him eat anything out there."

Nodding as he moves to grab up a pair of gloves, Cas is in doctor mode now and that's kind of unexpectedly hot, even if his shoes do clash almost painfully with the scrubs, because it only serves to emphasize the man's brand of stubbornness.

"How have his appetite and bowel movements been?" Cas asks, snapping the first glove on.

"About the same," Dean replies with a small shrug. "Nothing out of the ordinary as far as I can tell, but a neighbor kid walks him for me during the day while I'm gone, so."

"Has he been licking his anus more than usual, or perhaps scooting?" Cas queries, completely serious as he gets the other glove on and rounds up some supplies.

While Dean is aware that it's a perfectly legitimate medical question, his inner twelve year old can't help but snicker. Cas gives him an unimpressed look and rolls his eyes.

"Come on, Dean, I'm serious," he says, a glint of amusement in his eye aimed purely at Dean.

"I know, sorry," Dean says, trying to control the immature grin from creeping back up on his lips. "But um, yeah, that's what clued me in. The scooting, I mean."

"Alright, let's have a look, then. Hey Dash," Cas says gently, pleased when Dash seems excited at hearing his name, rather than defensive. "You're a little sweetheart, aren't you?" he asks the dog, voice low and soothing in a way that Dean wouldn't mind hearing when he can't sleep well.

Cas gets right down to business, movements gentle yet confident as he expertly moves the mountain of hair out of the way to get a good view of everything. Dean almost can't watch, feeling sorry for Dash and the intensely uncomfortable look on his face as he squirms in Cas' hold. Unfazed, Cas prods around carefully, eyes completely focused.

"Good boy, Dash. You're doing so good," Cas murmurs absently. Then he straightens up to look at Dean. "Well, I have tentative good news. From what I can see, he doesn't have worms, though I'd need to get a stool sample to confirm. So far, I think he just needs to be expressed."

Dean lets out a relieved breath, but then frowns. "I don't know what that last part means."

"Is this your first small dog?"

"First dog ever," Dean admits, feeling a bit embarrassed, considering his age.

Cas doesn't bat an eye though, and just nods. "There are glands near the anus, and most dogs don't have any trouble from them. But smaller breeds, their glands can sometimes get a little…backed up, because they can't always get enough force behind the movement when they poop to help clear it all out. In short, sometimes small dogs need a little help getting the fluid all out- expressing it- so they don't risk infection, and to keep them comfortable."

That is really so much more than Dean ever wanted to know about his dog's butt. Or any dog's butt, for that matter. At least it's not worms, though, Dean thinks with a small shudder.

"I'm just gonna…you might want to step back," Cas says, glancing up to Dean.

Dean steps back quickly, trusting that Cas knows what he's talking about. A moment later, Cas is manipulating…something…back there, and then whoa, that's disgusting! Oh man, Cas has just earned every dollar Dean is paying him, because Dash totally just squirted something from the butt region, and Dean is frankly a bit queasy. Cool as a cucumber, Cas just cleans up the dog's rear and then heads over to the trash to dispose of his trash and gloves, before heading over to the sink to wash his hands.

"I'm feeling pretty confident that he's fine on the worms issue, though it's up to you if you'd like us to run the labs for your own peace of mind," Cas says as he scrubs at his hands. Then he looks over his shoulder as he uses his elbow to turn off the faucet. "Otherwise I'd suggest just keeping an eye on his appetite, energy, and stools whenever you can for the next few days."

"Yeah, let's just do that," Dean agrees, putting Dash back in his carrier. And if he happens to sneak a glance at Cas' ass while his back is turned, well that's his business.

Once Cas has his hands dried and paper towels disposed of, he grabs up Dash's chart and scribbles his notes down. The furrow his brow takes while he's focusing is kind of adorable, and Dean can't help but watch Cas, fascinated by his work demeanor.

"You're staring," Cas says without looking up, a small grin on his lips.

"Sorry," Dean says quickly, petting at Dash more for the distraction than anything.

Cas chuckles and a few seconds later, unclicks his pen and closes the folder.

"I don't mind," he says with a bit of a smirk. At Dean's look of pleasant surprise, Cas' smirk stretches into a grin.

And there it is again, that stupid blush rising up in Dean's cheeks without his permission. Shit. What the hell is this superpower that Cas seems to have, to make Dean feel like an awkward teenager with a crush? It's ridiculous, and Dean is determined to make sure that Cas doesn't just slip away again, so he decides to indulge the other man, and lets his eyes roam over him. When their eyes meet again, Cas looks pleased that Dean has shown blatant interest, and Dean likes that sort of shy look at having gotten Dean's attention.

"I wanted to see you again," Cas says quietly, "but I couldn't remember which precinct you said you worked at, and I thought it might be…untoward, to go visiting all five of them to look for someone whose last name I didn't know."

Dean is pretty sure that his internal organs turn to mush at this, and he doesn't bother restraining his grin. "Yeah?"

Cas nods, and Dean makes up his mind then.

"Well, I don't go in to work until three. Wanna grab a bite after you get done here?"

"Sounds good. I'll be done around one, if that's okay," Cas replies.

Hannah pops her head in the doorway suddenly, all business. "Doctor Novak, Maya is in room three whenever you're ready."

"Thank you, Hannah," Cas says, and then Hannah's off again.

Dean grabs for his wallet and pulls out a business card, stepping into Cas' space to hand it to him, just because he can. "Here, give me a call on the cell number when you're done, and we'll get it together then."

Cas sticks the card in his shirt pocket and pats his chest over it. "Will do."

Before he can chicken out, Dean leans in then and gives Cas a little kiss on his cheek, relishing the blush that Cas has now. "Later, Doc," he says, tossing in a wink before grabbing up Dash and heading out the door.

He stops by the front desk on his way out to settle the bill, in far too good of a mood to be brought down by the frown on Becky's face as she deals with him. Whoever pissed in her oatmeal that morning is her problem, and Dean doesn't care anymore. Dash doesn't have worms, Dean accidentally found Cas again, and now the two of them are going on a lunch date in a few hours and Dean is about two seconds away from obnoxious, cheerful whistling.


	3. Chapter 3

Cas wrinkles his nose and furrows his brow as he chews his bite of tortilla chip and salsa, clearly displeased, and remarkably adorable. Dean watches him openly, barely holding back a laugh as he brings his own chip to his mouth.

Within seconds, he knows why Cas is making that face, but isn't quite so graceful with his own reaction, electing to swallow as quickly as possible and then making a lough _Ugh_ sound as he pulls his drink over to wash the taste out.

"God almighty, you think they put enough cilantro in there?" Dean asks, not quite able to wipe the grimace off of his face yet.

Cas still looks fairly grossed out himself, and shakes his head. "I know the majority of people seem to like it, but there comes a point," he trails off.

Their eyes meet for a moment, and cilantro forgotten, Dean can't help but grin at the other man. His hair is still damp from a shower he must have available at work, but he clearly didn't take the time to shave, and every time Cas shifts, Dean gets a small whiff of watermelon. And yet again, the man is dressed in a button-up and dress pants, though without the tie today. It makes Dean feel a bit underdressed in his Henley and jeans, but like hell was he going to change for a lunch date; he might be a hopeless flirt when he wants to be, but that doesn't mean he has to look like he's trying too hard.

The moment goes on for what could be seconds or minutes, until Cas breaks it with a grin and a quiet chuckle.

"You are absolutely not what I was prepared for when I came into the room this morning," Cas admits. "I'm glad, though."

"Yeah, what was it you said? Brony or something? What is that?" Dean asks.

Cas' eyes flit over him as he seems to be trying to decide something. "I'm not sure if I should tell you."

Curiosity piqued, Dean leans into the table a little bit. "Come on, don't make me Google," he pleads.

"If I tell you, you have to understand that the conclusion I came to was based on some rather unfortunate circumstance," Cas says, eyebrow lifted.

"Okay," Dean drawls, feeling a bit nervous now.

Cas sighs, then takes a sip of his drink before explaining.

"A few years ago, they did a revamp and started making My Little Pony episodes again. And for some god-forsaken reason, there's been a wave of young adult men and teenagers that have latched onto it rather fanatically and…well. Many of them um, sexualize the characters," Cas says, looking uncomfortable. "And some even dress up as them."

Dean can't help but lean back in disgust and confusion. Cas winces when he sees Dean's reaction, but continues on.

"So anyway, within this weird sub-culture, there also seems to be a common attitude, that they're 'nice guys', who are owed attention from women simply because they don't assault them on the spot. You know, those guys that insist on friendzoning being a real thing," Cas says.

"Creepy-ass douchenozzles, gotcha," Dean interjects.

Cas gives him an apologetic look. "Yeah, and one of the characters on the show is Rainbow Dash. So Becky warned my assistants of the potential Brony, because those guys tend to make most women uncomfortable. So I took your chart, in order to spare them dealing with it."

"Oh my god," Dean groans, rubbing a hand over his face. Fucking Ruby and her sadistic sense of humor, and fucking crappy circumstance and his own poor behavior not helping. "I swear I had no idea," he says, pleading for Cas to believe him.

"I know, Dean," Cas says with a small smile, reaching over to pat the top of Dean's hand on top of the table. "Anyone who talks to you for more than thirty seconds could figure that out. Well, besides Becky. But she tends to kind of live in her own world."

Dean sighs out his relief, but then something occurs to him. "Wait, how do you know about all that?"

"I fell into a Googling rabbit hole while trying to locate a particular My Little Pony toy for my niece's birthday a few months back," Cas admits, looking a bit haunted.

"Hey, we've all been there," Dean grins, nudging his foot against Cas' in a show of support. "One time I ended up reading about the Black Plague for an hour, when all I'd gotten on the computer to do was look up a recipe for pumpkin pie."

Cas gives him an odd look around a grin as he huffs a laugh. "Now that's talent."

Dean gives him a wink, but then the server is coming over with their food, and the topic is dropped once they've started digging in.

Their lunch date goes by with surprisingly little flirting, but a lot of easy conversation that leaves Dean feeling warmed all the same. Even if the two of them don't work out romantically, Dean could easily see them becoming friends; something about Cas just seems to fit, as if they should've known each other all along. Of course Dean would definitely prefer more than friendship, but considering how little flirting there had been- even less than that day at the bakery- he can't help but think that maybe Cas has decided that he's not so attracted to Dean. So it's a pleasant surprise, when Cas follows him out of the restaurant to where Dean is parked, and reaches for Dean's wrist before he quite makes it to the driver's side door.

Dean had been babbling on nervously about his plans for his backyard at his new place as they'd walked, knowing it was probably the last thing that Cas would care about hearing, but seemingly unable to stop. The touch to his wrist startles him a bit, but before he can really react, Cas' thumb and index finger of his other hand are on Dean's mouth, pinching his lips shut. Then Cas is chuckling quietly to himself at what must be the wide-eyed look on Dean's face.

"You're babbling," Cas says with a fond grin. "Do I really make you that nervous?" he asks, removing his hand so that Dean can speak.

Cas seems genuinely curious and a little surprised, which is confusing to say the least, because how can Cas not know what a catch he is? The man is smart and adorable and hot as holy damn, and surely he's got people taking numbers to have a shot with him.

"I just really like you, okay?" Dean mumbles, looking at the asphalt, where's he's scuffing the tip of his shoe against a few small pebbles. He cringes a little at how much he's definitely not reining in that awkward teenage crush thing, but it's too late now, and hey look- there's an old blob of gum a couple feet away that's sort of in the shape of a wizard's hat. Or maybe a Dunce cap. Very interesting, and fitting for how Dean feels-

Then there are two warm, dry hands on either side of his neck, and Cas is getting right into his personal space, deep blue eyes shining with gentle amusement. Dean can't help but swallow as the smell of watermelon curls around the air, and one of Cas' thumbs strokes gently over his pulse point.

"Are you waiting for an invitation?" Cas murmurs around a smirk.

"Yes," Dean replies, immediately wanting to facepalm. _Smooth like sandpaper, asshat._

Cas huffs a laugh. "Good to know I'm not the awkward one for once," he mutters to himself. "Dean, I would like to taste your tongue. Right now, please."

Hearing Cas say such a blunt thing seems to knock Dean's brain back online, because yes, that is definitely something he can do. Without further ado, Dean closes the scant two inches between them, sighing a satisfied sound at finally getting to feel and taste the shape of Cas' mouth. The kiss doesn't last long, but it's mostly due to the fact that Dean messes it up by grinning only a few seconds in, and then Cas is grinning, and then they're laughing for no particular reason, until there's no way to call it a kiss anymore. Cas doesn't back away from where he's got Dean boxed in against the side of the Impala and standing between Dean's legs, and Dean doesn't let go of where he has his arms draped over Cas' lower back. Instead, Cas just leans in to suck a gentle kiss to the side of Dean's neck, humming a contented sound when Dean's breath hitches.

"Guacamole," Cas says suddenly, into the skin of Dean's neck, punctuating with a little kiss.

"Huh?" Dean asks eloquently. He can't feel embarrassed though, because come on! Cas is all up in his space and _touching him_ and _his lips_ are _on Dean's neck._

Cas pulls back then, and off of where he's been using Dean as a standing mattress, and Dean tries not to pout.

"I said I wanted to taste your tongue, and right now you taste like guacamole," Cas says with an amused grin.

"That…can't be appealing," Dean grimaces.

Shrugging with a crooked smile, Cas reaches for Dean's hand, playing with his fingers. "I don't mind. And I also wouldn't mind finding out what you taste like after another date," he says, looking a bit shy now.

"Well, if you're going to date me, you might as well know early on that I'm totally gonna take things like that, dirty," Dean winks, feeling more confident now.

To his credit, Cas only rolls his eyes and huffs a laugh as he smacks lightly at Dean's arm. Before Dean can respond, his phone blares out with an alarm that he'd set earlier to let him know to wrap it up so he could make it to work on time, and he tells Cas as much. With a promise to set something up and one final chaste kiss, Cas takes off toward his own car, and Dean spares a moment to not only watch him walk away, but also take note of what the man drives.

Dean sighs when he sees Cas walk right up to a Ford Focus- or Fuckus, as Dean calls them- and unlock it. Well, nobody's perfect, and it just gives Dean all the more excuse to drive on their date.

***

In light of what a dweeb he was on their first date, Dean resolves that he is absolutely not going to make an ass of himself on their second one. He takes his time getting ready, donning a white button-up that's tight enough to show off his physique, but casual enough to leave un-tucked and roll the sleeves up, and unbuttoned just low enough to be casually sexy. Next to come on are one of his tighter pairs of jeans that always garner a few lusty looks, his dressier watch, and then just because he can, a couple sprays of the expensive cologne he rarely bothers putting on.

Yeah, it's not the fanciest get-up, but it's never failed him before, so Dean feels confident when he rolls out to meet up with Cas. Dean would've picked him up, but Cas had texted him earlier to tell him that he'd been called out to handle an emergency and would be running late, so they may as well just meet at the theater since Cas wouldn't have time to stop at home first.

It takes until Dean is pulling up to the neon-lit monstrosity of a multiplex for him to realize a couple of things: for one, they didn't discuss what movie to watch, and for two, he has no idea of Cas' taste.

Just like that, Dean goes from feeling confident to awkward all over again. There's a decent selection of movies showing, but the genres are all very distinct to taste; high-octane action, a Wes Anderson thing, a romantic comedy, and a scifi movie that looked alright. Shit, why couldn't there just be one of those general 'everyone likes these' movies playing? Movie dates are always easy when there's something like Lord of the Rings or a Marvel movie going, but what the hell would Cas like? Dean glances around, but there's still no sign of Cas and he hasn't gotten a text, and Dean can't even buy any concessions because he doesn't know the first thing about what the other man likes to snack on.

Figuring there's no sense getting out of the car until Cas arrives, Dean finds a parking spot and leans back in his seat and closes his eyes, willing his palms to stop sweating. The next thing he knows, he's being startled awake by a tapping on his window, and Cas' face peering at him, looking guilty. Dean cranks the window down quickly, even though he's feeling a bit disoriented from his impromptu nap. As soon as the window is halfway down, Cas is leaning his forehead against the top of the door and fixing Dean with a _really_ guilty face.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," Cas says, eyes pleading.

"What? Why? You said you'd be a little late," Dean frowns, not quite understanding why Cas seems so abashed. "I was just dozing a little bit."

Cas gives him a fond smile and points at Dean's face. "Yes, I can see that. You've got a little," he trails off, now pointing at his own chin.

Dean runs a hand over his chin and mumbles a curse under his breath as he wipes away what is definitely drool. Wow, that's totally sexy and not at all kind of gross and embarrassing. Cas chuckles briefly at Dean's reaction, but then he sighs as his smile falters.

"That's my fault. My phone died, and I didn't realize it until I was getting back in the truck, and I'd been too busy to call until then," Cas says.

Now that he mentions it, Dean can see that Cas is in scrubs, streaks of mud and bits of grass and straw on him in places. And Dean wouldn't dare mention it, but there's a distinct farm smell wafting off of him too. Pulling out his phone finally, Dean sees that- oh- it's two hours past when their date was supposed to begin. Well, that would explain all the guilty looks and the apparent rush that Cas was in to get here after…whatever it was he'd been doing. Still though, he couldn't really find it in himself to care because he'd had a nap, and Cas was here now.

"So…you came straight here, two hours late on the off chance that I'd still be here?" Dean asks with a small grin.

Cas must not notice the grin, because he positively sags, bringing his forearms down to rest at the bottom of the window and his forehead to rest against his arms, hiding his face.

"I know, it's terribly inconsiderate, and I'm really sorry," Cas says, muffled, then lets out a humorless laugh. "And I show up disgusting and smelly. Way to charm 'em, Novak," he says more to himself than Dean. But then he stands back up wearily. "I enjoyed the time we had, Dean, and wish you the best."

Then he's backing away, and without a thought Dean shoots a hand out, grabbing at whatever he can reach- the hem of Cas' scrub shirt, apparently- and pulls. "Hey now, is that really it?"

Dean realizes the fault in his plan, when all he can see of Cas is a strip of skin above the waistband of his pants, and the scrub shirt where it's balled in his own fist, where he's pulled Cas flush against the door. Huffing at his own poor planning, Dean tugs downward at Cas' shirt and releases it, glad that Cas takes the hint and leans back into the window. He looks hesitantly amused, but doesn't say anything, waiting on Dean's verdict.

"You're getting ahead of yourself, Doc," Dean grins. "I was asking for clarification because I happen to feel flattered that you'd be determined enough to try, even with being late and kind of gross." He says the last part teasingly, though, so Cas knows Dean isn't mad.

"Oh," Cas says, blinking. Then he blushes bright enough that Dean can see it, even in the dark of the parking lot. "Um, well. Thank you, for being understanding," he says shyly. "But I wasn't actually expecting you to still be interested. I mostly came to apologize, and I'll admit that I don't know what to do now."

Dean can't help but grin, remembering how surprised Cas had been on their last date, to be the smooth one; at the time Dean hadn't seen how that was possible, but now he's getting it, and kind of loves that Cas is being awkward enough for the both of them.

"Be honest, what do you actually feel like doing right now?" Dean asks.

Cas tilts his head in thought, considering for a moment. "I'd really like to take a shower and then eat something and lay on the couch until I'm too lazy to turn the channel when the infomercials start up, and then go to bed. But I also wouldn't mind um…if you wanted to come over and be lazy with me."

Dean leans up and pushes a quick kiss to Cas' lips. "I'll do you one better and cook for you while you get cleaned up."

Cas pulls back looking concerned and confused and awed all at once. "Who _are_ you?"

"I'm Batman," Dean grins with a wink, without thinking, then kind of wants to punch himself in the face for the dorky response.

A slow smile spreads across Cas' face, and then he lets out what should be an unattractive snort of laughter, but it's Cas, so it only comes off as cute.

"Well then, _Batman_ ," Cas rolls his eyes fondly, "wanna follow me out?"

Seeing that Cas is apparently pretty damn hard to put off, Dean relaxes and cranks his car. Cas gives him a wink, and then takes off toward a massive Chevy truck. And okay, trucks aren't really Dean's thing either, but the fact that Cas feels comfortable operating that behemoth as well as a Fuckus is confusingly attractive, and Dean grins watching the man swing himself up into the cab with the grace of a jungle predator.

***

Cas' house is located in one of those 'country suburbs' on the outskirts of town, where the houses tend to sit on an acre or two of land, but still seem close enough to constitute a neighborhood, even if there are fields along the two-lane highways leading in. It's private without feeling isolated, and the stars are much more visible out here than at Dean's house in town. Cas happens to have one of the houses with more land, though the house itself is fairly small and old, and looks kind of funny having a giant truck, a horse trailer, a Fuckus, and-

Dean's face splits into a wide grin as his eyes come to rest on what appears to be a '71 Chevelle in good condition, parked under an ancient aluminum carport. Cas is just climbing out of the truck when Dean stops at the back of the old classic, running reverent fingertips over the edge of the trunk.

"Should I give you two some privacy? She usually doesn't let anyone fondle her on the first date," Cas asks, humor coloring his voice.

Dean whips his head over to look at the other man and can almost feel it like a physical sensation, the sense of being nudged toward the top of a steep hill, knowing that the drop is just as steep past the crest. God, it's only their second date, and Dean knows; he's going to end up falling for the man.

"I'm going to kiss you so lazily while we laze around in laziness," Dean declares, walking over to Cas.

Cas positively beams, and holds his hand out. "Then come on, so I can get clean and we can eventually loaf ourselves onward to that."

Dean takes his hand, uncaring for the fact that it's only about twenty feet to the door. When they walk in, Dean is surprised to see that the inside of the house is in far better shape than he would've expected, looking at the outside. It isn't spotless, but it's homey and lived-in, and Dean is pleased to note that Cas doesn't even attempt to apologize for the clutter on his coffee table or the basket of laundry next to the couch. There's something to be said for owning your space and not trying to act like you're normally Martha Stewart or something. He simply directs Dean toward the kitchen and tells him he's welcome to use whatever he finds, and then disappears off toward what Dean assumes is the man's bedroom.

A quick look through Cas' cabinets and refrigerator make it evident that the man likes the idea of cooking, but rarely does it; there's an unopened bag of flour, a taco dinner kit, some canned soup and diced tomatoes, a box of chicken broth, the normal stuff, but somewhat dusty. And the fridge reveals little to work with, but there is some meat stored away in the freezer. After a minute to consider, Dean figures out what he's going to make that wouldn't take too long and gets to work.

It only takes about twenty minutes before Cas comes back out, this time smelling kind of spicy and nothing at all like fruit. He leans up against the counter in an ancient Nirvana t-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama pants that don't match in any way, and takes an appreciative sniff as he peers over to see what Dean's making.

"Meatloaf?" Cas asks incredulously. "I wasn't even aware that I had any meat. Or eggs, for that matter."

Dean shrugs as he pats the concoction down into the pan he found. "I got creative with some Egg Beaters I found in there that were still in date. And you actually do have food in your freezer, you know," he says, glancing up to quirk an amused eyebrow.

Cas makes a noncommittal sound, apparently not feeling bothered by Dean's assessment of Cas' bachelorhood. "I usually only look in there long enough to grab something to throw in the microwave lately."

Dean shakes his head in mock-disapproval. "Well, none of that tonight. And I don't even care if you don't like meatloaf, you'll like mine," he says as he pushes the finished dish into the oven.

"Of course," Cas says, seriously enough that Dean can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not, until Cas cracks a grin at Dean's obvious confusion and elbows him in the side.

The motion stirs up more of that spicy smell, and Dean accidentally lets slip an approving hum. At Cas' curious look, Dean busies himself with getting the water going for the box of mac 'n cheese he found. "You smell nice, is all. Not that you didn't last time, but I was expecting fruity again."

Cas huffs a laugh. "I was hoping you hadn't noticed that I smelled like a walking Jolly Rancher last time. I had to use the shower at work that day, and all there was around was something one of the girls had left behind."

Dean turns then, and decides to go for it, looping his arms around Cas' waist and pulling him in for a hug, taking an unabashed whiff of the skin at the crook of Cas' neck. "I didn't mind. Kinda made me wanna lick you, see if you tasted good, too. But I also like whatever this is," he says, punctuating it by nuzzling against Cas' neck and enjoying the feeling of having Cas melting against him.

They stay that way for several seconds, until Dean realizes that Cas is leaning more and more heavily into him, and it strikes Dean that the man's probably ready to sit down after such a long day. Taking a risk, he pats Cas on the butt and tells him to go sit and find something to watch. Cas quirks a grin at his boldness, but complies, shuffling out toward the living room.

As Dean dumps the macaroni into the pot, he shakes his head at himself, unable to stop the grin pulling at his lips. It's been an incredibly long time since he's felt this comfortable with someone so quickly, but it feels too good at the moment to start questioning it, so for once in his life, he doesn't.

***

Predictably, Cas does in fact like Dean's meatloaf, though Dean suspects that some of the obscene groaning Cas is doing is strictly for the purpose of making Dean blush because no one makes that much noise over freakin' meatloaf. And because Dean is totally mature, he manages to refrain from letting any number of terrible 'meat' and 'loaf' jokes spill from his brain, though he definitely thinks them.

Cas refuses to let Dean clean up after dinner, but also makes no move to get up from the couch and do it himself, either, citing that it'll still be there the next day. Dean wants to argue that that's exactly why he should clean it up, but before the words make it to his lips, Cas is leaning into him giving him an appreciative kiss. Which is way better than doing dishes, so Dean takes it for what it is and kisses back. They don’t even get as far as tongue, when they're startled apart by a sudden metallic thump from somewhere off to Dean's left.

"Settle down, Peanut," Cas calls softly, peering over Dean's shoulder.

There's what appears to be a cage covered in a light blanket off in the corner, that Dean hadn't noticed before. Not that he's surprised that a veterinarian would have a pet, but he'd hoped Cas wasn't a bird person. He holds back a shudder at the thought of those beady eyes and all the flapping and unpredictably snippy beaks.

"Peanut?" he asks.

Cas grins and hums a happy sound that makes Dean feel kind of bad for already disliking Cas' pet. "Yeah, my sugar glider. She isn't thrilled to be in her cage, knowing I'm home, but if I let her out now she'll get hyper and won't settle down for a while."

Dean's never heard of a species called a sugar glider, but the thought of a hyperactive bird is mildly horrifying, so he does his best to look as normal as possible while he nods and grins, trying not to let on that Cas' choice in pet is weirding him out.

"If you decide to come back sometime, I'll let you meet her," Cas says then pauses. "Actually, I'm getting her a companion in a couple of days. Give them a while to get used to each other, and then you can meet both of them."

Cas just looks so thrilled with the idea, eyes crinkling and gummy smile that Dean can't help but smile back. If pushing down his distrust of flying creatures will make Cas happy like this, then Dean can be a grown up and get over himself. Besides, Cas is a vet, and Dean trusts that the man knows what he's doing and wouldn't sic a creature on Dean that would hurt him.

"Sounds good, Cas," Dean says, wrapping an arm around the other man's shoulders.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Dean and Cas' night in did indeed include a healthy amount of lazy kissing in between bits of conversation, wherein the two discussed anything and everything, some of it important and some of it not, but still enjoying learning about each other all the same. Around the fourth time Cas had yawned in fifteen minutes though, Dean had kissed him goodnight and drove home, feeling sleepy himself, but warm with satisfaction, despite not getting past a little bit of groping.

Over the next two weeks, Dean and Cas don't get to see each other much; Dean ends up getting pulled into a rather intense case that results in a ridiculous amount of hours, and leaves him getting approximately five hours of sleep a night, if he's lucky enough to not keep himself up dwelling on the case. He calls Cas when he has a minute just to touch base and make sure the man doesn't feel like he's being avoided, and Cas grumps at him for not getting enough sleep and wearing himself down too much. Dean's denial of the fact would probably be more effective if Dean hadn't dozed off right in the middle of a conversation at three in the afternoon one day. Still though, it warms Dean that Cas cares enough to express worry, even if it is a bit like being nagged for something he can't help; it's not like criminals are considerate of whether the cops trying to catch them are well-rested.

They're getting close though, and Dean can practically taste the impending closure of the case, so he really doesn't give a shit if he doesn't remember the last time he saw his house, nor does he allow himself to worry about the alarming number of coffee cups in his trash bin by his desk. He does feel a little guilty about the fact that the neighbor kid is taking care of Dash more than anyone, but at least the little puffball is being cared for.

His partner, Jo, is off for the day, and Dean is currently hunched over his desk, trying to blink away the blurriness in his vision as he looks over a crime scene photo. When that doesn't help, he resorts to squinting, and is so involved in trying to decipher whether he's looking at an 8 or a 3 next to the shell casings, that he doesn't notice a person standing next to his desk until there's a hand resting on his shoulder. He flinches back as he snaps his head up, and doesn't quite understand for a second what's going on.

Cas steps back, hands up as well as eyebrows, startled at Dean's reaction. "Just me."

Dean looks around, noting that it's dark outside, and there are only three other people milling around at the moment, though his boss and old family friend, Bobby, seems to be in his office.

"What're you doing here? And on a school night no less," Dean asks, still confused, but still happy to see Cas.

Cas gives him a concerned look and sighs. "The lady at the front- Pam- told me I could come see you, but she was smirking a lot, so I don't know how to feel about that. I'm not going to get you in trouble being here so late, am I?"

"No, it's cool, Cas. I should probably take a break anyway, and get some coffee; stretch my legs a bit," Dean says, leaning back in his seat and rubbing his eyes before standing up.

He doesn't miss the way Cas' eyes roam over him and smirks when Cas' eyes seem to light on Dean's gun holster at his hip, and absently chews at his bottom lip before coming back up to meet Dean's gaze.

"What? It's hot," Cas says bluntly, with a little shrug and a grin.

Dean chuckles, and the sensation of smiling feels oddly foreign on his face, but it's good to feel it there nonetheless.

Bobby chooses that moment to come out of his office and immediately glances over to Dean's desk, before an approximation of a smile twitches his mustache and he starts walking over.

"Doctor Novak, how are ya, boy? Pam called me up and told me you were here," Bobby says, clapping Cas on the back. Dean can only stare between them, dumbfounded as to what's going on, because to Dean's knowledge, the two have never met, and Jo's the only that knows about Cas because she's nosy and knows everything.

"Captain Singer," Cas says with a smile. "I'm well, how are you?"

"Old, tired, and ornery. Nothing new," Bobby says.

It's just too bizarre with the familiarity, and the fact that Bobby doesn't look surprised at Cas being there, and Dean's too tired to try and figure it all out on his own.

"What the hell?" Dean cuts in, looking between Bobby and Cas. "Someone please explain," he gestures vaguely between the other two.

"When I was still in veterinary school, I helped attend to the K-9 dogs under Doctor Gardener, and Captain Singer would bring the dogs in sometimes," Cas explains.

"You know Brutus is still kickin' right? Retired now, but that bullet wound healed up beautifully. That was good work, Doc," Bobby says, earning a quiet 'thanks' and a small blush from Cas.

Small fucking world.

Bobby turns to look at Dean now. "Anyway, whatever break you think you're takin', you're not. Go home, Winchester," he says.

"But I'm not off-"

Bobby cuts him off with a narrow eyed glare. "Get out, or I'll make you get out under suspension for insubordination. You're no good to me half-dead, so go sleep and don't come back til Monday mornin'." Then he turns to Cas. "Are you the boyfriend Dean thinks I don't know about?"

Cas flounders, looking at Dean for the right answer, who's looking between the other two, unsure how to respond; they haven't labeled their relationship yet, so Dean hadn't seen the need to bring Cas up with Bobby. Apparently, Jo doesn't know how to keep her trap shut. Traitor.

"Well, I'll take your awkward silence as yes," Bobby smirks, then looks at Cas. "Doctor, will you kindly make sure this idjit eats something and goes to sleep?"

"Hey!" Dean says defensively, but Bobby ignores him.

"Um," Cas says, looking more and more like he's drowning with every second.

Dean sighs and gathers up his files, closing them neatly and moving to open a desk drawer. "Come on, Cas. He's getting his kicks making us feel weird," Dean mutters, locking up his things and standing back up.

Even without smiling, Bobby seems to look pleased with himself, and just to show how unmoved he is by it all, Dean takes Cas' hand right there and leads him out of the precinct.

"You don't actually have to do any of that. I know you've got work in the morning and I don’t even know what time it is," Dean says, as they make their way to his car.

Cas sighs heavily. "Dean, you are aware that it's only eight o'clock and that it's Saturday, right?"

Dean stops in his tracks, because no, no he didn't. Come to think of it, he actually isn't sure what day he thought it was. Shit, he probably really should go to sleep. Cas gives a light laugh and lets go of Dean's hand to rub it affectionately along his lower back.

"If you aren't feeling too uncomfortable about what Captain Singer said, may I come home with you?" Cas asks, once he's sobered. "You took care of me, and I'd like to return the favor."

"I don't know, that's kind of a relationship-ish thing to do. You want me to be your boyfriend, Cas?" Dean asks in turn, only half-teasing, figuring he may as well. The idea's already out there, and it's only going to make everything really tense if they don't get it out of the way.

"Do you _want_ to be my boyfriend?" Cas evades.

"Oh, for the love of- I asked you first," Dean says, pulling out his keys and continuing their path toward his car, Cas falling back into step beside him.

"Fine. Yes, I would like to leave here with my boyfriend," Cas says, tiredly.

They're at Dean's car now, and Dean stops to fix Cas with what's probably a really stupid looking grin, but he doesn't really care at the moment. "Good, because I'd really like to take my boyfriend home with me and see if I can convince him to crawl in bed with me while I go comatose for the next several hours."

Cas returns Dean's grin, and they naturally drift toward each other, before the sound of a car door opening nearby snags Dean's attention. Gordon Walker, the bastard, just had to interrupt what was supposed to be a good moment, with his very existence.

"Not here," Dean murmurs with a slight shake of his head, and a pointed glance in Walker's direction. "He's a dick."

Cas follows his line of sight briefly, and without another word, goes around to the passenger side to wait for Dean to unlock the door.

"Winchester! Who's your friend?" Walker calls out, before they can make their escape.

Dean internally groans but puts on a polite face. "This is Cas," he says, purposely vague.

"Where are your manners, detective? Are you going to introduce _me_?" Gordon asks, all faux friendliness that clearly raises Cas' hackles, if his stiff posture is anything to go by.

"Cas, this is Detective Walker," Dean grits out. "And I'm off duty, so goodnight, Walker."

"Cas. Is that short for something?" Gordon asks, yet again stalling their attempt at leaving.

"Yes, it's a shortened version of my name," Cas retorts with a look of pure innocence. "Nice to meet you, Detective," he says, clearly dismissing the man by turning around and facing the passenger door.

Walker grunts an irritated sound, but Dean doesn't hear it, already in the cab of the car and unlocking Cas' door. As soon as they're both in and the doors are closed, Cas lets out a breath, and Dean snorts a laugh, drawing a confused look from Cas.

"That was some A-level smartassery, there Cas," Dean says, nudging Cas with his elbow. "And good job not telling him anything else, because I don’t trust him."

"You shouldn't. He smiles like a shark," Cas replies. "You don't have to work alongside him, do you?"

"Unfortunately, I do sometimes," Dean shares, pulling out of the lot.

"He'll get you killed if you let him," Cas says quietly. "Please just watch yourself around him, okay? I don't think he's just a dick. He gives me a bad feeling."

Dean reaches over to squeeze at the back of Cas' neck. "Hey, don’t worry about me, alright? I've got Jo, a good instinct, and I'll have you know I'm a fucking great shot."

"I can't promise not to worry about you, Dean," Cas says.

And this is why Dean rarely dates; most people can't handle the stress of knowing that their significant other could get killed at any time. Those in law enforcement have some of the highest divorce rates of all professions for a reason. Cas must sense the direction of Dean's thoughts then, because he reaches over and squeezes at Dean's knee.

"I know what I'm getting into," Cas says seriously.

Dean puts his hand over Cas' and gives him a small, appreciative smile.

When they get to Dean's house, Cas makes no protest when Dean starts stripping down as soon as he walks in, trailing clothes behind himself as he makes his way to the en suite in his bedroom. It should probably feel weird, considering Cas has never been here, and they've actually not been remotely unclothed around each other yet, but all Dean can feel is relief at having his bed in sight. By the time he finishes brushing his teeth and taking a leak, Cas is entering his room with a glass of water and stepping right up to Dean.

"Drink all of it. You're probably dehydrated from all of that coffee, and don't want to wake up with a headache," Cas says, passing the glass off to Dean.

"Yes, Doctor," Dean smirks, earning a matching smirk from Cas, as he glances up from where he's already getting the covers pulled back on Dean's bed.

"I'm beginning to think you have a doctor fetish, with how you seem to enjoy tossing out my title," Cas says, straightening and then pulling his t-shirt over his head in one smooth motion.

Dean is halfway through swallowing a gulp of water when this happens, and between the embarrassment of being called out and the shock at how fucking _fit_ Cas is, Dean ends up spluttering in an effort not to choke on his water. In an instant, Cas is on him, rubbing a firm hand over Dean's back and watching him to make sure he's okay while he coughs and wheezes.

"Christ Cas, what the _hell_ do you do at work? You bench press horses on your breaks or something?" Dean asks, voice deep and strained from the coughing.

Cas looks down at himself, as if just now noticing what he looks like, before glancing back up with a shy smile. "I just run and lift some weights a couple times a week. Believe it or not, I actually do use a lot of strength for my work. Ever tried to restrain a nervous, two hundred pound dog long enough to administer a shot?"

Dean can't help but reach out and run a hand along Cas' front. "No, can't say I have," he murmurs absently, grinning when Cas shivers. "Damn, my boyfriend's hot," he adds, just because he can.

Cas blushes an endearing shade of pink from chest to ears. "I think I can say the same," Cas grins, running his hands down Dean's arms with a sigh, then bringing them back to himself to work his pants open and push them off.

As Dean suspected, Cas from the waist down is just as impressive as the waist up, and far more athletic thoughts than he's capable of performing at the moment flood his imagination. Damn, but it's not fair, being so bone-deep exhausted when he has an almost-naked Cas right there, and the yawn that forces its way out of his mouth only serves to further the point.

"Lie down before you go comatose on your feet," Cas says, nudging Dean toward the bed.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a-gettin'," Dean mutters, crawling under the covers. "I don’t suggest playing little spoon, unless you're okay with me snoring in your ear, by the way."

Cas comes around the other side of the bed and slides in, Dean already rolling to volunteer as little spoon. "There's also the drool factor to consider," Cas teases, but doesn't move to spoon in, instead lying on his back.

Dean grunts an indignant sound but doesn't argue as he reaches to turn the bedside lamp off, because it's true. He knows he isn't a graceful sleeper. When Cas still doesn't move to snuggle in, Dean reaches blindly behind him until he finds Cas' hip furthest from him and tugs in a silent request. Cas does roll now, but he seems oddly hesitant when he brings an arm to rest over Dean's waist, and somewhat tense. After a few more minutes of more of the same, Dean considers something that has him frowning.

"Is this okay? You're not freaking out at the underwear-only sleeping stuff, are you? Cause it's cool if you're not feelin' it. I mean, I've been getting the vibe that you aren't into rushing stuff," Dean shrugs.

Cas doesn't answer for a moment, somehow going even tenser, accompanied by the sound of a harsh swallow that makes Dean feel approximately as awesome as a dog turd. Dammit, he should've known this would weird Cas out; hell, they've only been official for literally less than an hour, and here goes Dean, pulling Cas into bed when they've barely gotten an ass-grab in.

"I've never had a boyfriend," Cas whispers.

That's nowhere near what Dean was expecting, because so far Cas has been maybe a little blushy, but always receptive to Dean's flirting, and even fairly confident. Thinking back though…

Dean rolls over slowly, so he can face the other man. "What do you mean? Like just never done a relationship, or?"

"I've kissed one man besides you, but- but that's it. And um, that was a drunken moment in college," Cas confesses so quietly, Dean has to hold his breath to hear it.

"Oh," Dean says, not quite sure how to respond. He honestly hadn't seen this coming, but he certainly knows that it's a time for delicacy. Before he can say anything else though, Cas is talking again.

"I mean, I'm definitely not a virgin or anything, just… _this_ is new. And I don't want to mess up," he says.

For the first time, Cas sounds vulnerable, and Dean realizes how important this must be to the man. After all, it's one thing to be bold and flirty when all your clothes are on and you don't know if what you're doing will lead anywhere, but it's a whole other when you're almost naked in bed next to someone with the implication of intimacy happening in the near future.

"Cas, do you _want_ to sleep next to me?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

Cas sighs a frustrated sound. "Yes, Dean."

"Then what are you worried about, huh?" Dean asks gently.

"I don’t know," Cas groans, sounding frustrated with himself. "Not being sure how close is too close or not close enough, not knowing the rules of orgasm etiquette and how you're supposed to decide who gets off first when it's two men, not knowing-"

Dean reaches across the small space between them, finding Cas' arm in the blob of his outline in the pitch dark of Dean's room. "To answer your first question, just lay however you want, I'm cool with whatever you're comfortable with. And as for the rest, we can talk about all that in the morning if you want, alright? For now though, just do what you gotta do to relax so you can sleep. Or if you'd rather just go watch some TV for a while, that's alright too. Want you to be comfortable here, Cas, so make yourself at home."

Cas breathes out through his nose. "I'm being stupid, I'm sorry."

"No, you're not. It's just the tail end of a big gay freakout, that's all," Dean says, letting his smile drip through his voice.

"Oh, I'm not gay. I think I'm probably bisexual. Or maybe pansexual," Cas replies.

"I…don't know what that second one is, honestly," Dean admits, as Cas lets out a yawn.

"Stuff to talk about in the morning," Cas says.

"'Mkay," Dean shrugs. "As long as it means you still like me."

Cas huffs a quiet laugh and squirms a foot over to slip between Dean's legs, wiggling his toes against Dean's top calf in a ticklish move.

"Will you roll back over?" Cas asks after a minute.

Instead of answering, Dean simply complies with the request, and sighs contentedly when Cas not only comes in full contact, but scoots down a bit so he can press his forehead into the back of Dean's neck, and practically wraps himself around Dean.

"This is nice," Cas mumbles, sounding somewhat surprised. "Just as nice as with a woman. You're all solid and warm and stuff."

Dean chuckles and laces their fingers together where their hands are resting over his stomach.

"'M'gonna sleep so good," Dean murmurs, more to himself than anything. He may be used to sleeping alone, but that doesn't mean he prefers it, and there's something to be said for settling in for a long sleep with a warm body tucked up against you.

Cas hums a contented sound and squirms a bit as he finishes settling in, before pressing a little kiss to the back of Dean's neck.

"Night, Dean."

Dean's already dozing off, but he gathers just enough energy to toss back a "Night Cas," before promptly conking out.

***

When Dean wakes, he has a brief flash of confusion at the dead weight sprawled on top of him, before he remembers what's happening in his life. At some point Dean rolled to his back, and apparently, Cas didn't see fit in his sleep to move. Cas' head is tucked up under Dean's chin, and to Dean's amusement, Cas is not only snoring, but has drooled right onto Dean's chest. It shouldn't feel like a victory to note that Cas isn't a graceful sleeper either, but it does nonetheless.

Dean tries to wriggle out from beneath the man, considering the way his bladder is screaming at him, but Cas merely grunts an unhappy sound and tightens the arm draped over Dean's stomach. If it weren't for his own pressing biological need, Dean would happily let the man keep him there, but at the moment it's just not an option, so he sets about carefully peeling Cas' arm away.

"No," Cas grumbles, voice deep and slurred with sleep.

"Gotta piss, Cas."

Cas lifts his head and cracks a sleepy eye at him, looking for all the world like a confused cat that's been woken unpleasantly, before recognition seems to set in. Instead of a reply though, Cas just gives a little grunt and releases Dean, seeming to fall back asleep as soon as Dean is out of the bed. It's got to be ass o'clock in the morning because it's still mostly dark outside, so Dean fully intends on getting right back to bed as soon as he's done with his business. When he gets back to the bedroom though, Cas is curled up on Dean's side and has managed in the two seconds Dean was gone, to burrito himself up in ninety percent of the blankets.

Sitting down on the side of the bed, Dean gently shoves at what is probably Cas' hip. "Scoot and gimme some blanket," Dean says, not quite conscious enough for manners or pleasantries.

"Meh," Cas groans, pulling the blankets tighter.

Oh, so he's one of those, huh? Dean may be rather fond of the man in his bed, but he isn't done sleeping and has no intention of letting Cas pull this crap, mostly-asleep or not. Plus, now that he's been out of the bed for a minute, Dean's getting cold. So without further ado, Dean grabs what seems to be an edge of the comforter and tugs, hoping to loosen just enough up to crawl back in.

Cas tugs it back.

That's just it, then.

Dean figures he can take advantage of the way Cas has rolled himself up and uses every bit of barely-conscious strength he can to simply roll the man to the other side of the bed, sliding into his own spot as soon as the space is vacated. Cas huffs a surprised sound and flails with absolutely no coordination as he seems to wake up now, and is supremely unhappy at being tangled in the blankets.

"What? Why are-" Cas breaks off, trying to shove the blankets away, and huffing in frustration. "Help, I'm stuck…you assbutt, stop laughing at me," he grumps, when Dean lets loose a chuckle.

After a minute of wriggling and an elbow coming uncomfortably close to Dean's nose, they manage to sort out the blankets, Cas muttering grumpily, made worse when it only serves to spur on Dean's amusement. Finally, they get resettled, both lying on their sides to face each other, but that doesn't feel right, and it drives Dean crazy to feel someone breathing in his face.

"Can I lay on you?" he asks after a minute.

In response, Cas rolls to his back and flops his arm out in invitation, and Dean scoots in to take his own turn at nestling into Cas' collarbone, pleased when the arm comes back up to wrap around his shoulders. Within a minute, he's passed out again, warm and comfortable. It seems like he's only been asleep for seconds, when there's an insistent nudge at his shoulder.

"Roll over. Snorin' in my ear," Cas murmurs.

Sure enough, Dean's managed to aim his mouth right next to Cas' ear, and turns over willingly onto his stomach, only sparing a fleeting thought for how terrible their sleep chemistry seems to be. But then Cas is flopping himself over Dean's side, one large hand curling around his ribs, and a meaty thigh wedging between his own. Okay, so maybe it's not so bad, after all.

***

Either Cas remembered the burrito debacle and is feeling guilty, or he's just genuinely an awesome boyfriend, because the next time Dean wakes, it's to the smell of coffee and food, making his stomach rumble on cue. Dean doesn't bother with a shirt or pants, and pads out to the kitchen, scratching lazily at his chest and yawning as he walks in.

There isn't a single trace of guilt on Cas' face when he looks over from the stove, where he appears to be working on an omelet of some sort. What really grabs Dean's attention, is the fact that like Dean, the man is wearing nothing but his underwear, an apron, and a sleepy grin.

"Morning," Cas greets him. "I was going to get you up here in a minute," he adds, attention back to the pan.

Well damn. If this is what a Sunday morning would look like with Cas, then Dean can definitely find a way to deal with their mutually terrible sleep habits.

"You snore. And drool. And steal the blankets," Dean blurts. He'd meant to say something flirty and affectionate, but apparently his mouth is not communicating with his brain.

Cas turns to look at him in a mix of emotions that Dean can't quite discern, before the man looks away and sniffs.

"I do not snore _or_ drool," Cas says primly. He doesn't deny stealing the blankets.

 _Ha_ _!_ _So he does remember the burrito incident._

"Oh my god, you totally do too!" Dean laughs.

Cas narrows his eyes for a moment before a sly glint lights them.

"You really want to criticize _my_ sleep habits, Dean?" he asks challengingly, an amused smirk rising on his lips.

"Please," Dean huffs, "I already admitted I snore and drool."

Cas nods, plating the finished omelet. "True. But you are also clingy and gassy."

Dean pushes down his own embarrassment, and moves to pour up a cup of coffee, ignoring Cas' victorious smirk. "What can I say? We're men, and we're kind of gross. Still want a _boy_ friend?" he teases, throwing in a blatant ass scratch for good measure.

Cas sets their plates down on the kitchen island in front of the bar stools and pretends to consider Dean's question as they seat themselves.

"I don't know. Are you going to nag at me for forgetting to clean my sink out sometimes after I shave?"

Dean shrugs with a grin. "Probably not. Especially if it's your own sink."

Cas gives a half-grin at that. "Well, you're already gaining points on my last relationship, so I'd have to say that despite your propensity to chew like a horse and release ungodly smells, I'm pretty okay with having a boyfriend."

"Oh, just you wait. I'm going to find something gross or weird about you at some point," Dean grins, pointing his fork at the other man. "Like…like I bet you're one of those that wears tennis shoes without socks."

At this, Cas looks away, and Dean cackles in delight because really, he'd only been throwing something random out there.

"Not to work or when I run, though," Cas mutters with a slight pout, cutting off a bite of his breakfast. "Can't risk blisters, standing on my feet all day."

Dean can't help but lean over and kiss Cas on the cheek, warmth filling him for the man next to him. Cas grins at the gesture and reaches over to squeeze at Dean's knee briefly, before huffing a laugh to himself.

"What?" Dean asks, digging into his own meal.

Cas shakes his head. "Nothing, really. Just laughing at myself. Thirty-two years old and only just now taking the time to actually act on my sexuality. It's weird, but nice, groping a hairy leg."

"That's right. What did you call that one, again?" Dean asks.

Cas gives Dean a rundown of pansexuality, as well as explaining that he's figured that it or being bisexual would be the right label for himself a while ago, but just hasn't had time to really act on it. Between college, vet school, dealing with his mother's death, and inheriting the vet clinic, he's only managed a few flings over the years, but nothing overly serious. He also rushes to assure that Dean isn't an experiment, and it isn't hard for Dean to believe, with how earnest Cas is in explaining himself.

"So basically, you were just freaking out last night that I wouldn't want you because you're kind of inexperienced?" Dean asks, eyebrow quirked.

Cas shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away.

"Cas," Dean says on a sigh, reaching over to rub a palm over Cas' shoulder blades. "Look, I know we're still fresh into this thing with us, but I mean it when I say that I like _you_ , okay? So just be blunt with me about the stuff you're cool with and what you might want to try, and we'll figure it out as we go, alright?"

If possible, Cas looks even more embarrassed, a flush rising up his neck.

"Not right now, of course," Dean adds quickly. "Unless you have something you want to know or whatever."

"Do you have plans for today?" Cas asks.

"Nope," Dean says with a half-shrug.

"Let's just hang out then, and let the day take us where it takes us, then, if that's okay with you," Cas suggests.

"Sounds perfect."


	5. Chapter 5

As it turned out, letting the day 'take them where it would' ended up being first to the couch to watch a movie, which then turned out into a not-so-lazy makeout session that resulted in Dean discovering that he is indeed still capable of coming in his pants at the age of 30. Apparently, once Cas discovered the glory of simply rubbing his cock against another, there was no stopping the frenzied dry humping that followed. Dean's spent dick had twitched helplessly when Cas exited the bathroom with his jeans from the night before, as he just _knew_ that the man was going commando.

They'd also snacked and talked, Dean answering questions, until they both became restless, and Cas suggested they get some fresh air. After a spontaneous picnic at the park near Dean's apartment, Dean had driven the man to the precinct to get his car. With the coast clear of onlookers, Dean had leaned in to steal another kiss, and they parted ways with a promise from Dean to try and take care of himself that week.

Of course, that didn't really happen, what with the pressure of the investigation wrapping up. But hey, at least Dean made sure to eat at least one real meal a day; that had to count for something, right? Unfortunately, there was also the predictable shit to deal with, after Gordon Walker had flapped his gums about Dean and Cas, while Dean had been enjoying his day off. Likely due to any number of dirty looks and gruff threats from Bobby, most of the guys kept their disapproval or surprise to a minimum, only shooting dirty looks or whispering behind Dean's back. It may not have been optimal, but it sure as hell was an improvement over the few times he'd been jumped in high school, when people found out that Dean swings both ways.

Thankfully, a surprisingly helpful anonymous tip came in on Wednesday night that had the perp captured and behind bars by Thursday night, and Dean letting out a deep sigh of relief when it was over. He texted Cas to let him know, and an hour later, had received an invitation to come over for pizza and to meet Cas' sugar gliders. Dean hadn't forgotten about his boyfriend's pets necessarily, but he hadn't exactly _actively_ thought about them, either.

And now he's sitting at Cas' kitchen table, trying his best to eat the slice of greasy Heaven in his hand, and not think about the rattling of the cage in the living room he can hear in the background. Cas is in a good mood, pleased about the fact that the C-section he'd performed on a dog had not only gone well surgically speaking, but that all of the pups were alive and appeared healthy as well. Cas' happiness makes Dean happy too, but apparently his smile seems to betray something of the nerves he's feeling underneath.

"Are you alright? You've been a little tense since you got here," Cas comments.

"What? Yeah, totally cool," Dean answers a little too loudly.

Cas narrows his eyes, clearly smelling the bullshit. "You don't have to tell me what's wrong, but you also don't have to lie to me about having something on your mind."

Dean sighs, considering whether he should outright tell Cas that birds creep him the hell out, and risk either hurting his boyfriend's feelings, or offending him. But some common sense also tells Dean that most animals can sense when humans aren't relaxed and can act out, so he should probably say something.

"Birds freak me out and I don't like them up close," Dean admits in a rush.

Cas tilts his head, eyebrows scrunching together. "Okay," he draws out, clearly confused. "Did you get attacked by one today or something?"

Sure, Dean's noticed that Cas has a tendency to be a bit obtuse at times, but come on! This is ridiculous.

"No," Dean also draws out. "But I thought you should know before you go trying to hand me one."

If possible, Cas looks even more confused. "Why would I hand you a bird? I mean, I may have a way with animals, but I'm no Cinderella, summoning creatures to my side at will."

Dean rubs his temples tiredly for a moment before leaning back in his seat and simply gesturing at the covered cage, which they can see from the table. Realization seems to dawn on Cas' face, and after a second, the attractive asshole is laughing.

"Dean, sugar gliders aren't a species of bird. They're a species of marsupial," Cas explains, grinning fondly at Dean, who now feels both intrigued and embarrassed.

"I thought most marsupials would be too big to fit in a cage that size," Dean says. "Like possums and kangaroos and shit, right?"

Wiping his hands off on a napkin, Cas stands up. "Yes, those are examples, but they come in many sizes. Come on, time for you to meet my babies," he says with a grin.

Once they're in the living room, Cas directs Dean to sit down on the couch, and warns him to stay still and keep his voice calm. Dean can't see the creatures, but he can certainly hear Cas crooning at them, and can't help but grin at the happy gentleness in Cas' voice. When he gets over to the couch, he sits down sideways with about a foot of space between them, large hands obscuring all but a strip of brown fur.

"Dean, this is Peanut. Peanut, this Dean," Cas introduces them.

A tiny little black-striped head with huge eyes pops up from Cas' hand, and _oh dear God, it's like a cute version of a rodent._ As Dean looks closer though…

"Are those wings?" he asks with no small amount of surprise. "Is that like a-"

Before he can finish the sentence though, apparently Peanut takes it as her opportunity to show Dean exactly what she can do, and faster than he can process, the little thing has zapped herself across the space and is clinging to his shoulder.

"Jesus fuck!" Dean shout-whispers, barely remembering the calm voice thing in time. "What do I do? What does it want?" he asks, somewhat panicked.

Cas chuckles. Just fucking chuckles, while Dean is fairly certain he's about to lose an ear as Peanut moves around to investigate her human perch.

"She just wants to check you out, Dean, and she's a gentle creature. Just stay still and let her do her thing, and she might even let you pet her if she wanders down low enough for you to reach her easily. Sugar gliders are very social creatures, which is why I got her a companion to keep her company while I'm out during the day. When I'm at home though, she spends a good bit of time perched on my shoulder, or on the arm of the couch next to me. And if she's really restless, she might zip around the living room a bit for some exercise."

Peanut stays perched on Dean's shoulder for what's probably a full minute, and Dean finally starts to relax and get used to her. She even sort of crawls down to hang onto his chest, and Dean rather hesitantly, reaches down to pet her. Maybe she's not so bad-

Out of nowhere, Peanut is zipping down to land on his ankle, where he has it resting on is opposite knee, and the movement startles Dean yet again, barely restraining himself from shaking her off out of reflex. He also manages a rather embarrassing yelp, and Cas finally puts him out of his misery, gathering the little jumpy ball of fur into gentle hands.

"It can take a minute to get used to the way they move, but after a while you learn how to sort of anticipate it," Cas says to Dean. Then to Peanut, "I know, it's kind of hard getting used to all these new people, huh, sweetheart? I've got you, though."

Dean has to press his lips together- _hard_ \- to keep from grinning like an idiot. Dammit, Cas is fucking cute.

"Who else has Peanut been meeting?" Dean asks curiously.

"Oh, just Booger," Cas shrugs, completely unfazed with the tiny creature crawling up the cardigan he's wearing, heading for his shoulder.

"Booger?" Dean smirks, looking to the cage, where he can see the other sugar glider.

Cas gives Dean a tiny frown, but his eyes undermine the look as they glint with humor. "Hey, Booger is people too," he says. "At least to Peanut, anyway. And no, I didn't name her; the previous owner was a ten year old."

Dean snorts a laugh, watching Peanut situate herself as she looks around.

"Speaking of whom, can you handle both of them out at the same time? It's not really fair to leave Booger in there while the rest of us are over here," Cas asks.

They might be kind of cute little things, but the flappy-jumpy thing honestly does kind of weird Dean out. But then again, Cas said that he spends time with them directly every night, and if Dean's going to date this man, he'd probably better get used to this quirk of the man's life. Plus, it only seems fair, that if Cas can do something new, then Dean can too. Besides, Dean deals with dangerous criminals and risks getting shot every time he goes out in the field. What's a tiny flying ball of fur?

"Yeah, bring her out," Dean sighs. "I'll try to stay calm."

Cas positively beams, all gummy and pearly teeth, and Dean knows he made the right decision.

As it turns out, Booger is a tiny bit more laid-back than Peanut, and seems to actually sort of like Dean for whatever reason. It takes several minutes, but Dean finally starts to get used to her, and even relaxes a little bit when Booger lets him pet her. Cas turns the TV on and relaxes back into the couch cushions, yet again unfazed when Peanut decides to climb up on top of his head for a minute until he's settled, then back to his shoulder.

Booger also seems content to crawl all over Dean, leaping from shoulder to knees, and over to Cas a few times, but returning to Dean a minute later each time. Dean wants to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, sitting around watching TV with marsupials on the loose, like it's completely normal, but refrains, not wanting to startle the little critters. As much as he's starting to get used to them, he doesn't want to see just yet how they respond when they're frightened.

"Are you laughing at me?" Cas murmurs suddenly, though he sounds amused more than anything.

"I wasn't laughing at all," Dean replies, eyebrow quirked and grin on his face.

"You were. I could see it. You were laughing inwardly," Cas retorts.

Dean huffs with mock irritation. "Please. If it's inward, that means it's not shared, so how would you know?"

"Because I'm learning to read you better," Cas smirks. "And also, your evasion isn't helping your case."

"Okay, fine, I'm laughing a little, but not at you. Well, maybe at you a little bit, but me too. Cas, we're sitting around watching TV with fancy flying squirrels, like it's completely normal," Dean says.

"Don't you listen to him, babies, you're not just fancy flying squirrels," Cas says, faintly indignant, addressing his pets. "And Dean, watch your words. Think of the children!" he scolds, trying and failing to look truly indignant, what with the way his lips tremble as he holds back a smile.

Dean is pretty sure that if the sugar gliders were big enough, Cas would have covered their ears just for emphasis. He can't hold it back anymore at the image of Cas pressing his fingertips to the tiny little furry ears, and lets himself laugh lightly, glad when Booger doesn't seem overly concerned about it except to hook a better grip into the fabric of his shirt.

"Fine, fine, _sugar gliders_. I apologize, ladies," Dean addresses the animals, humoring Cas' little game. "So what else should I expect from my vet boyfriend? You're kind of out in the country, so what else you have going on? Emus? Llamas? Barn owls?" he asks, only half-kidding. Seriously, there's no telling, and Dean's actually pretty curious.

Cas huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes. "God Dean, it's not _that_ bad. I have my girls here, a few stray cats that I leave food and water out for, but that's it. I'm not Doctor Doolittle, you know."

"Mmmm, but you were kind of dressed like _The_ Doctor, the first time I saw you. Throw on an overcoat and you're most of the way there," Dean grinned.

Cas' eyes narrowed. "Which Doctor?"

That was definitely a challenge in Cas' voice, and not a question of whom Dean might be talking about. Interesting.

"Come on, dude. You had the pinstripe pants and the Converse and the tie and all. Throw in an overcoat, and you would've been rockin' the Ten," Dean replies, eyebrow quirked.

"Dean Winchester. Are you telling me that you've been a nerd this whole time and didn't share with the class?" Cas smirks.

"Guilty as charged, _Doctor_ ," Dean said with a small eyebrow waggle, "but you knew what I meant, so you have no room to talk. And you didn't share either, so that's double…no room," he ends, awkwardly.

With a snort of laughter, Cas stands up gracefully, cradling Peanut to his chest with one hand, and reaches out for Booger with the other, where the little thing has decided to hang out on the top of the couch. Booger leaps away to the arm of the couch, but Cas only chuckles at her and scoops her up on the second try before heading back to the cage to put the gliders back in.

"Damn, I can practically feel my pants coming undone by themselves with all that smooth talk working its way into them," Cas teases, glancing over his shoulder.

Yet again, Dean curses not only his stupid cheeks for blushing, but his own terrible wording. Plus, it doesn't exactly help the blushing situation that Dean's overactive brain immediately provided an image of what exactly he'd like to do if he indeed got into Cas' pants. When the man turns back around from getting the gliders settled, he's got a cheesy, knowing grin on his face. Dean narrows a small glare on the man that does absolutely nothing to dampen the grin.

"You might be adept at reading situations, but you're awful at not showing your thoughts on your face," Cas says fondly, coming to stand suggestively close, in front of where Dean is still seated. "Lucky for you, I think I'd like it if you got in my pants tonight," he says, pushing his hips forward ever so slightly.

"Oh really?" Dean asks, feeling less embarrassed as he reaches forward to grasp Cas by the hips.

"Mmhmmm," Cas hums with a nod, letting himself be pulled forward until his shins bump the couch. "Oddly, I find myself enticed by your dorkiness."

Dean can't help but glance in front of him, where he's been carefully not looking until now, and is surprised to see that Cas isn't just teasing; there's an honest to god bulge starting to form right in front of his face. His eyes dart up to meet Cas', who looks away shyly for a moment, in complete contradiction to his words and actions.

"Tell me what you want, Cas," Dean says huskily. Mostly because he doesn't want to cross any lines Cas isn't comfortable with, but also, maybe Dean would like to see if he can get Cas to say something a little bit dirty.

Cas doesn't disappoint.

"I think I'd like to try sucking your cock," Cas says easily, as if he's discussing the weather. "It's been a while since anyone's sucked mine though, so I might could use a refresher on what it feels like before I go trying it anyone else," he adds with a wicked smirk.

The breath that blows out of Dean's mouth is entirely unplanned in his surprise at Cas just throwing it out there. Cas also looks a little surprised at himself, but reins it in enough to chuckle at Dean's reaction.

"What? You asked me to be blunt with you the other day," Cas says innocently.

Dean pushes Cas away so he has room to stand. "You," he says, poking a finger at Cas' chest, "you know exactly what you're doing there, you little shit," Dean chuckles.

"Maybe," Cas shrugs. "Give me a while to get used to doing it again, and I'll get better at it," he says somewhat apologetically, reaching for Dean's hand and tugging him toward the bedroom.

Dean pauses and pulls the hand holding his own over to push against his crotch, where he's already halfway there, himself. Unsurprisingly, he twitches under Cas' palm, just because it's Cas' hand touching him. Cas darts his eyes to Dean's.

"Don't go acting apologetic," Dean says pointedly, then groans in surprise when Cas grips him through his pants and presses downward _just right_. It takes a second for him to realize that Cas' eyes haven't left his own, and that the man seems to be enjoying watching Dean react to his touch.

"You really aren't turned off by me," Cas says, sounding a little surprised.

"No shit, Cas," Dean grits out, when those fingers dip lower, to fondle lightly over his balls.

"We need to be naked now," Cas says abruptly, resuming the walk to his bedroom.

Normally, Dean would be kissing and seducing the person he's with at this point, but Cas isn't trying at all to be seductive, simply starting to strip as soon as he gets to his room. Dean eyes the man as he unbuttons and removes his own shirt, but Cas doesn't seem overly tense or anxious. But he also doesn't seem to have forgotten about the kissing part because of over-excitement, either. There's something perfunctory about his movements, but they don't seem like he's bored, and then something clicks.

"Cas?" Dean asks, getting a hum of acknowledgement in response as Cas moves on to unzipping his already unbuttoned jeans. "Stop for a sec."

Cas looks up, immediately concerned as he stills his hands. "What's wrong?"

Dean steps into his space and cups Cas' face, his thoughts confirmed when Cas looks vaguely uncomfortable and surprised by the tender gesture. He almost sighs in disappointment on Cas' behalf, that apparently, Cas has never experienced being swept into sex with kisses and touches and affection, until the sex itself becomes the inevitable conclusion. Somehow, this beautiful man has only ever had 'well, we may as well fuck' sex, which in Dean's experience has never been anything more than using the other person as a tool to reach your orgasm.

"Nothing's wrong, just- this isn't how I do sex. Can I show you my way?" Dean asks, thumbing at Cas' cheekbones. He doesn't want Cas to feel bad, like it's his own fault for having never been treated to good sex.

"Okay," Cas drawls out, a touch apprehensive.

"Just relax and go with the flow, alright?" Dean murmurs, barely giving Cas time to whisper another 'okay', before coming in for a soft kiss.

Dean makes sure to start it slow and gentle, which seems to catch Cas by surprise, but he adapts quickly, following where Dean leads. Little by little, Dean feels Cas relax into it, until he actually seems to melt into Dean right where they're standing. Figuring it's about that time anyway, Dean nudges Cas back toward the bed, and the man gets the hint easily enough, making his way to the middle of the bed to lie on his back, Dean following right along. Plastering himself against Cas' side, Dean leans over to resume the kiss, licking a little more deeply this time, but just as slow, and bringing a hand to trail fingertips over the length of Cas' torso from collarbone to just above the waist of his jeans.

Cas shivers and makes these deep, quiet little groans when Dean sweeps over more sensitive areas, Dean kissing them greedily from his mouth. When Dean's thumb brushes along the dip of a hipbone, Cas inhales sharply and his hips buck a little bit as he pulls back from the kiss, panting for air.

"I am taking my pants off," Cas says sternly, as if daring Dean to stop him again.

Dean quirks a grin and rolls away to give both of them room to take off their pants, both men sighing in relief at freeing their erections from the confinement of their pants. Before Dean can move, Cas is on him, mirroring Dean's previous position, and taking his own turn at exploration. Cas doesn't keep up the kissing like Dean did, too interested in actually feeling around and pressing little open-mouthed kisses all along Dean's chest, but Dean isn't complaining. And especially when Cas laves over a nipple, causing a zing of pleasure that seems to be directly tied to Dean's cock like an invisible wire, making him whimper. Cas' head pops up to look at Dean's expression, a subtly excited look falling across his face at having done something to bring Dean pleasure. He dips down to do it again, this time thumbing at the other nipple at the same time, causing Dean to arch into the touch with a moan.

Humming a pleased sound, Cas seems to gain a bit of confidence and allows his touches to burn a little hotter with each drag of fingertips and starting to suckle a little more harshly wherever his mouth lands. It's not really Dean's bedroom M.O. to be very noisy or outwardly wanton, but he chooses to let his restraint drop for now, because apparently, Cas is the sort that needs that kind of feedback to know that he's doing a good job. And if that's the kind of person Cas is, then it's unlikely Dean would have reason to feel embarrassed at openly expressing his want; it's not like Cas is going to mock him for it, when he's clearly the kind of person that needs to feel needed.

It pays off.

Where Cas' touch had been hot but tentatively curious before, now that Dean is letting himself get lost in the sensation of _Cas_ and respond in all the ways he'd normally hold back, something seems to snap in his boyfriend's hesitation. Those long gentle fingers tug at the waistband of Dean's boxers, pausing to look at Dean for permission, who nods eagerly as he takes in the lust-darkened features looking back at him. Not wasting a second, Cas pulls the boxers off and tosses them, then immediately bends down to nip and suck and kiss along Dean's hips and low on his belly, just shy of Dean's blatantly twitching cock near his face. At one dramatic leap of the length, Cas finally pauses the assault with his lips and leans up a bit to take in the direct sight of Dean's cock, scrutinizing it with only his eyes for a few seconds.

The look is so speculative and considering, Dean almost wants to cover himself up; it's Cas' Doctor Face, and it's much more intense being the subject of it than observing it from a distance. He couldn't imagine how many inappropriate reactions Cas' patients would have if Cas had trained to be a doctor for people instead of animals.

"I knew you were well-endowed, but it puts things in a different perspective when you're considering putting a cock in your mouth," Cas muses, before glancing up to meet Dean's eyes.

Dean has no idea how to respond to that. Normally it would make him feel proud to have his impressive size acknowledged, but right now he almost feels kind of bad. Never in his life has Dean been concerned that his dick might actually scare someone away, but it sure as hell is happening now.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," he finally croaks.

Cas gives him a look like he's wondering if Dean was dropped on his head. "I was merely explaining my pause in pleasuring you, since you looked sort of worried. And no offense, but I'm an adult, Dean, and I don't feel pressured to do anything I don't want to."

And without another word, Cas fits a fist over the length and strokes a couple of times, grinning like he found a twenty dollar bill on the sidewalk when a fresh bead of pre-come makes its way to the surface and Dean lets out a shuddering breath. Dean feels like his eyes are incapable of looking away, and he can feel the way they widen when Cas dips in to flick his tongue out and gather up the bead of fluid. It's so soft and quick that it's almost too much on the sensitive head and Dean hisses a little. Cas gives an indifferent little hum in the back of his throat at the taste and then proceeds to take the head in and suck a little bit.

"Holy Jesus!" Dean gasps, barely holding his hips back from bucking at the feeling and sight of those full lips wrapping his cock. Apparently, Cas is ready to get this experience on the road, and willing to wait for his own turn.

"Too much?" Cas asks, after pulling off far too soon for Dean's liking.

Dean shakes his head vigorously. "N-no. Fuck, no. Just um, just do what you figure girls were doing to you when they were going down on you. I'll tell you if it's too much."

With a determined nod, Cas goes back to task, swirling his tongue around the head before sinking down a few inches, letting his hand take what his mouth can't. After a few testing bobs to get used to the girth and sensation, Cas hollows his cheeks, and a sort of embarrassing whine makes its way out of Dean's throat. Looking right at Dean, Cas quirks a wicked brow, and then sucks harder and proceeds to set up a medium rhythm that normally would leave Dean plateauing. But the sight of Cas with his hair mussed from Dean's fingers, eyes glazed with concentration, and those lips- god- Dean is far from bored. When the man pauses his bobbing to play with the head some more, he also snakes a hand down to roll Dean's balls in his palm, and Dean is approaching the end faster than he expected from a virginal blow job.

"How're you doing up there?" Cas asks softly after a few minutes, voice rough with lust. Before Dean can reply, Cas is licking a stripe from base to tip, right along the vein on the underside, and Dean throbs at the touch, letting out a harsh breath.

"What do _you_ think?" Dean asks, his own voice sounding a bit hoarse. Damn, has he really been making that much noise? "Unless you want a face full, you might not want to go on much longer," he admits.

Cas seems to actually fucking consider it for a moment, before deciding against it with a small shake of his head. "Maybe another time," he murmurs, getting up on his hands and knees to hover over Dean.

Dean can't help but blink up at him. "Christ, I have my own Doctor Sexy," he blurts.

A slow smile spreads across Cas' face at that before he chuckles with a look that says he just gained more information on Dean and intends to use it later for his own funsies.

"Will you come down here and kiss me?" Dean asks, wrapping a hand around Cas' neck.

"Oh. I didn't know if that would be okay after," he trails off, eyes glancing down between them.

"Not everyone's cool with it, but I don't give a shit. Just want your mouth on mine, Cas," Dean says, tugging Cas down to kiss him.

After a minute of sloppy kisses, Dean pulls back to look at Cas and catch his breath. "You still want that blow job, or would you like to get off with me?" Dean asks, pulling a hand up and miming a jerking motion.

"With you, please," Cas says quietly, almost looking embarrassed.

"Hey, nothing wrong with that. It's nice doing it together," Dean says, pressing a sweet kiss to Cas' lips before twisting to get in his nightstand. When his hand finds the little bottle, he twists back and resettles himself. "Get comfortable. Gonna take care of both of us, and you're gonna help," he says with a wink, pouring a generous amount of lube in his palm.

Surprisingly, Cas decides to sit up, straddling Dean's lap. After he's got himself well-lubed, Dean gathers both their cocks in his slick hand, both men groaning at the hot hardness against their own. "You too, Cas," he says, holding up the bottle.

Cas slicks his own hand, then brings it down to thread their fingers together, and lets out a surprised sort of grunt at the sensation, immediately rocking his hips into the tunnel of their hands.

"Oh my _god_ ," Cas moans. "That…that is much better than I thought it would be."

Dean huffs a laugh that breaks off into a moan when he rocks his own hips up. It takes a few minutes and some stops and starts, but they eventually find a rhythm between them, and once they find that sweet spot in the drag and tightness and everything in between, it becomes downright undignified in its frenzy.

"Dean," Cas grunts, eyes glazing over. "Close."

"Yeah," Dean pants, feeling like he has permission now to chase his own release that much faster.

Cas seems to be of a similar mind, and soon enough, Cas is spilling over their hands with a loud _ungh_ sort of sound, and Dean is right behind him. Rolling off of Dean, Cas collapses on the bed next to him, breathing hard. There's an unmistakable dazed grin on his face though, and after a few seconds, he lolls his head over to look at Dean.

"Hey there," Dean grins.

"Hi," Cas grins back.

They both chuckle a little bit, Dean in relief that Cas seems happy and not anxious about the intimacy, and Cas simply looking blissed out.

"Why in the hell have I never made the time for dick before?" Cas says wonderingly, shaking his head. But then he looks over again, his grin a bit softer now. "At the risk of sounding sappy, I'm glad it's you, though."

Dean's face heats at the sentiment, completely unused to pillow talk of the…feelings sort.

"Well, that is really sappy," he smirks, earning a lazy slap to the back of his arm. "But I'm glad too, Cas. And you did really well, by the way."

With a happy sigh, Cas closes his eyes for a moment to bask, murmuring a 'thank you'.

By the time they've cleaned up and re-dressed and they've shared some more kisses between what is admittedly, some pretty disgustingly sweet flirting, it's getting late. Cas walks Dean to the door, where it ends up taking ten more minutes to actually get the door open, when Cas leans in and pins Dean to the wall to lay a fierce kiss on him that leaves Dean breathless and a little dazed.

"Night, Cas," Dean says, grinning a little stupidly.

"Goodnight, Dean," Cas smirks, sending Dean on his way with a playful swat to Dean's ass.

On the way home, Dean is still grinning, and for the life of him, can't seem to go longer than a full minute before it comes back as he thinks about his own little Doctor Sexy with his marsupials and stubborn refusal to wear appropriate shoes, and shared aversion to cilantro. Many times in Dean's life, he's pushed perfectly good relationship opportunities away, in fear of them failing before they could really begin, or that the moment he got hurt on the job that he'd lose them to the stress of it. Something about Cas feels different, though. Right, in a way that no one else has before. Something in Dean's gut tells him that Cas meant it when he said he knew the risk, and was willing to try anyway, and for once, Dean is going to let himself have this.


	6. Chapter 6

Despite his initial hesitance, Cas dove into intimacy with a passionate curiosity once he'd found out firsthand- heh- that being with a man wasn't all that different in terms of sex etiquette and such. He still had his moments of shyness and nervousness, but was always quick to assure Dean that it was merely the nerves at doing something new with another person; as Dean found out, when he opened the drawer to Cas' nightstand, apparently, Cas had been quite the self-explorer over the years.

Things settled down at the station for a while, so Dean took advantage of the better hours and lesser workload to spend more time with Cas. Granted, a lull in cases almost always meant that something bigger was brewing on the horizon, but Dean would take what he could get while the opportunity was there. And as they spent more time together over the next couple months, Dean did indeed learn that Cas is not perfect and has his own quirks. For one, the man is terrible about procrastinating laundry, as Dean finds out after one particularly messy coupling, and there isn't a single clean sheet to be found in Cas' house. Sleeping on top of towels thrown over the bed grated on Dean's nerves, and his boyfriend was annoyingly amused at Dean's grumbling the next day.

They have their fights, nothing too big or out of the ordinary for a couple that's exiting the honeymoon phase, and oddly, Dean finds it comforting that Cas feels comfortable enough in their relationship to show Dean when he's mad. But then it finally happens, and Dean isn't so comforted anymore, when it goes from _Dammit Dean, you left my milk out all night and now I have to stop for breakfast because all I have is cereal_ or _Hey, ever heard of texting back when someone asks if you wanna grab dinner together, Cas?_ \- to this.

Their most recent fight has been over Cas' nagging at Dean yet again, for something he can't really help: having to work with Gordon Walker on a case. Cas insisted that Bobby would probably reassign one of them if Dean brought it up, but Dean stubbornly refused to do such a thing. After all, even if he didn't trust Walker, Dean figured that the man would be neither stupid enough to do something to let Dean get killed, nor smart enough to cover any attempt up properly. Furthermore, Dean knew well enough that Bobby would tell him to suck it up and stay sharp, so there wasn't really a point in bringing it up, anyway.

Cas' eyes went dark with irritation and the only reason he didn't shout was because he didn't want to scare Peanut and Booger. "Won't you at least fucking try? Just watch your own goddamned back for once?" he hissed.

When Dean pointed out that if he wanted a nagging spouse, he'd be married, Cas' eyes had gone from furious to hurt in an instant, and Dean knew immediately that he'd fucked up. Rather than apologize like an adult though, Dean had stomped out of Cas' house and gone home to brood like a sulky teenager. It had been their biggest fight yet, grounded in more important things than any of their others, and it felt wrong in every way to leave it like that as Dean tossed and turned in his bed that night. Still though, it was easier to assume that Cas was hurt enough, that Dean would be receiving a break-up call the next day, and let himself wallow in the inevitable. Even Dash seemed to notice Dean's misery, and had joined Dean in the bed, whining sadly in empathy at his owner's side.

He didn't get a call or text of any sort the next day, which was almost worse. Cas was going to just let this thing of theirs go without any acknowledgement that it had ever existed, and that hurt a hell of a lot more than Dean anticipated. He reasoned that maybe Cas was simply needing space, or more logically, waiting for Dean to realize he'd been an asshole and apologize. But with the way those blue eyes had dulled and glazed as Cas shut himself off with his hurt, Dean could only assume that any normal person would be done with Dean's bullshit and probably wouldn't even accept his apology, so he didn't bother.

Translation: Dean was a chickenshit, terrified of confirming the worst, so he said nothing.

He could deal with assuming the worst, but having it put out there explicitly was mortifying, so he avoided dealing with it at all for the next two days, immersing himself in the case. If he'd actually dealt with it all like an adult though, he may have had the true mental clarity to notice that something was off with the case, and most certainly with Walker.

***

Hushed voices, a steady beeping, and the sensation of his throat being utterly parched are the first thing Dean notices. He tries to open his eyes, but the moment the light filters in, he slams them shut again with a pained groan, as it seems to pierce right through his skull and bloom into the worst headache he can recall. It makes his sense of smell sharper, and it takes nothing to realize then that he's in the hospital as he takes in the unpleasantly sterile scent.

"Fuck," he croaks, wincing at the dryness of his throat.

Within seconds, there's a woman's voice that he doesn't recognize calling his name next to him.

"Dean, can you hear me?"

Instead of trying to speak again, Dean grunts in acknowledgement.

"Good. I need to lie still for me, and no sudden movements, alright? I'll be right back."

He nods this time, and does as he's told; not that he really feels like moving, anyway. A moment later, he hears the door open again, and then another female voice he doesn't recognize mutters, "For god's sake, can't they turn off a light? Like they don't know it's going to hurt a man with a head injury."

The light immediately tones down beyond his eyelids, and the throb in his head calms down a bit, enough to attempt opening his eyes again. There's a dark skinned, serious-looking woman approaching the bed now with the distinct air of 'doctor' in her carriage.

"Hello, Mister Winchester. I'm Doctor Angelo, the neurologist that was on call when you came in. Would you like some water?"

Dean sighs in relief, and that seems to be answer enough, as the doctor comes back to the bed a moment later with a cup, bendy straw aimed at his mouth. She doesn't let him drink too much before pulling the cup away.

"Sorry, but we have to make sure you can keep it down before you get more," she explains apologetically.

She asks him a few questions to see what he remembers and assess how he's feeling, as well as explain that he'd received a blow to the head that had knocked him out for the last day. He'd been lucky to have avoided any swelling on his brain or fractures to his skull. It's sort of hard to keep up with, as fuzzy as he's feeling from whatever medication they've given him, and the doctor finally seems to realize that Dean isn't quite with it enough to do much more talking about his condition.

"Your partner has been here non-stop, and I'm sure they'd like to know you're up. I'll send them in," Doctor Angelo says, checking Dean's vitals one last time before whisking out of the room.

Dean groans internally and closes his eyes again, not quite sure if he's up to the task of dealing with Jo. He loves her like family and trusts her with his life, but her enthusiastic voice and innate energy are more than he thinks he wants to be around at the moment. He only has a minute to prepare, before the door opens again. Maybe if he pretends he's already passed out again, she'll leave him alone and come back later, when he's had a while to adjust. No such luck though, as he hears a sigh, and the door clicking shut softly, before quiet feet pad over to his bed.

"I know you're not asleep," a distinctly Not Jo voice informs him quietly.

Dean's eyes pop open before he plans on it, immediately regretting the movement as it sends a throb through his head. He still can't bring himself to close his eyes again though, shocked at seeing none other than an exhausted, extra scruffy, and altogether disheveled Cas.

"Cas," Dean croaks, utterly confused at the man's presence. He may not clearly remember what happened to earn his stay here, but he most certainly remembers that he and Cas aren't really…he and Cas anymore.

It's impossible to read the emotions flickering over Cas' face for the next few seconds, until he slumps down into the chair next to Dean's bed and leans forward to rest his forehead against the edge of Dean's bed and takes a deep breath. Fuck it all, Dean can't help but lift his hand to card his fingers through the head of dark hair next to his hand. He sees as much as hears the shuddering breath Cas releases.

"You scared the shit out of me," Cas mumbles, before sitting back up to take Dean's hand in his own.

Dean swallows harshly, but it only has a little to do with how parched he is. Cas sees it and obligingly grabs the cup of water to let Dean have a sip.

"I'm sorry," is the first thing Dean says when he can form words. Then, "Why are you here?"

Cas gives him a look that on Sam would most definitely be a confused bitchface. "What do you mean? Why wouldn't I be?" Then he slumps a little, rubbing tiredly at his face before standing. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed you'd want me here. Sam will be here in about an hour, I'll just-"

"Cas, no," Dean calls out as loud as he can, voice cracking. "Please."

Cas looks relieved and devastated all at once as he sits back down. "It's my fault. Bobby said you've been distracted, and I should've called you and fixed it, and I'm so sorry."

"Hey, hey," Dean soothes, holding out a hand, which Cas takes immediately. "It's just a bump on the head, Cas. It'll be okay. Not your fault. You're not the one that did it."

Cas sighs heavily, still looking guilty. Christ, how in the hell can the man feel so bad, when Dean's the one that hurt _Cas_ , and then took off like an asshole? Cas sniffs, looking a little watery, and squeezes Dean's hand.

"As long as you stay stable overnight, they'll probably release you tomorrow," Cas says. "Doctor Gardener is willing to take over my clinic for the week, if you want me to take you home," he says hesitantly.

"You still want me around?" Dean asks, amazed. He hears something click nearby, but doesn't think anything of it.

"Of course I do," Cas says earnestly, almost looking affronted that Dean would question it.

"So…we're okay?" Dean asks hesitantly.

"We will be," Cas replies with a tired shrug. "But we'll talk more about that when you're feeling better. For now I'm just glad you're alive and didn't slip into a coma. Fucker wasn't exactly delicate," he says with a scowl.

"What? Who?" Dean asks, despite the fact that he tries to remember what happened. The effort makes his head hurt again though, so he gives up and closes his eyes.

"Forget it, I shouldn't have said that," Cas chides himself.

"Tell me later?" Dean murmurs, feeling sleepy again.

"Maybe," Cas says, leaning in to kiss Dean on the forehead. "Take a nap. Sam'll be here soon, and I need to go take a shower before I start smelling like one of my patients."

Dean grins, cracking an eye open to look at Cas, lifting a hand up to run his knuckles along his cheek. "Yeah, you got a nice peach fuzz goin' there," he teases.

Cas rubs his own face, grimacing at the almost-beard he's growing. "God, I must look like I crawled out of the ass end of Purgatory or something," he mutters.

With a snort, Dean squeezes at Cas' arm, starting to feel a little floaty, and vaguely registers that the click he'd heard must have been a pain med drip starting up again on its timer. "Nah, always fuggin' gorgeous. Even covered in mud and stuff, still pretty," Dean says, words slurring a bit.

Cas chuckles and gives Dean one more kiss, this time on the lips, though it feels a little tingly to Dean's skin now. "You're about to be high off your ass, so I'll leave you to it. We'll talk soon."

Dean hums in response, already feeling himself starting to float away. "Love you, Cas," he mumbles, not quite sure why it feels both weird and not weird, whatever it was he just said. He can't really remember now, and it doesn't matter because he's falling into a nice warm, fuzzy sleep. Due to this, Dean is completely unaware of the way Cas has frozen in the doorway, not sure how to feel about the fact that Dean will probably have no memory of having said it, and may not even actually mean it. After all, everyone always loves everyone when they're soaring on the wings of inebriation.

***

"Good morning, Mister Winchester. Remember me?" the dark skinned doctor asks him.

Dean blinks and considers her face; he's only been awake for a few minutes, so maybe it takes him a second. "You're the neurologist," he says, trying to remember her name. "Doctor Angelo?"

She smiles at him, briefly. "Correct. Doctor Raphael Angelo. So, how are you feeling?"

Dean takes a moment to catalogue the sensations of his body, and lists them off. The doctor listens attentively, nodding as he speaks. She asks him a few more questions, informs him that Bobby will dropping by in a little bit to speak with him, and that as long as he holds down some breakfast and his vitals still look okay, that he'll be discharged later in the day. Honestly, Dean feels like shit, between the ache in his head, sleeping too much, and being stiff from lying around, but feeling like shit at _home_ sounds much better than sticking around the hospital one more day.

Bobby looks oddly subdued when he stops by, asking first after how Dean is feeling. There's a minute or so of this before Bobby lets out a sigh and sits up straighter in his chair.

"I'm glad to see you're okay, Dean, but this isn't strictly a social call. I have to ask what you remember, son," Bobby asks seriously.

Dean's been letting himself think about it a bit at a time since he woke in the middle of the night, but the details aren't adding up.

"Me and Walker pulled up to the Flannery place, and no one answered when we knocked, but we could hear voices inside. So we split off, Walker taking the front and me at the back, and I'm pretty sure I knocked and announced myself, and then nothing," Dean says, a little frustrated.

Bobby nods tiredly. "Well, I'm going to need to you keep trying to remember more, because we got an IA investigation cranking up at the precinct, and they'll be asking you, too."

"What? Why's Internal Affairs down there?"

"Turns out old Flannery was happy to roll over on Walker when he _allegedly_ saw Walker knock you out with the butt of his gun. _Allegedly_ , Walker was planning on pinning it to Flannery, taking the bricks, and then stashing it before calling in the bus for you," Bobby shares, tone clearly saying that he believed the old drug dealer over Walker.

"I'm sorry, boy, I should've gone with my gut. I knew Walker was probably dirty, but I couldn't find anything concrete to accuse him of, and was biding my time," Bobby says, shocking the hell out of Dean with his apology. "Shouldn'a sent him out there," he adds.

"Cas knows, doesn't he?" Dean asks, earning a scrunch of eyebrows and a shifting of beard that he'd learned indicated a sort of frown.

"You know I can't release details to a civilian like that," Bobby replies with a blatant, opposing nod of his head.

Dean sighs. Goddammit, Cas had been right and knew it, and would've been well within his rights to give Dean a big fat 'told you so', but hadn't shown any inclination toward it whatsoever. Truthfully, this injury is Dean's fault as much as it is Gordon's, because if he'd just listened, Bobby probably would've done exactly as Cas predicted and reassigned them, and all this bullshit wouldn't have even happened.

"I'm an idiot," Dean blurts.

"What of it?" Bobby quips, a small smirk lighting his face now.

Dean rolls his eyes, knowing Bobby isn't expecting an actual answer. After getting the details of his leave and when he'll need to talk to IA, Dean receives a gruff 'glad you're okay' and a clap to his shoulder, before Bobby is leaving again.

Around lunch time, Dean is given one more series of pokes, questions, and charts examined, before he's told that his discharge papers will be drawn, and that they'll inform his partner to come get him. He remembers being confused about that the day before and grins, knowing that it'll definitely be Cas coming for him this time. He suspects that Sam had volunteered to pick him up as well, but Cas knows that Sam doesn't get regular paid time off and probably wouldn't let Sam lose out on the pay. Not because Cas is that territorial, but because he knows that Dean wouldn't want Sam to suffer a tight month for it. Cas, on the other hand, can easily afford the time off.

Minutes later, Cas arrives, apparently already on his way down to visit, when the hospital called. Once they have the discharge instructions, prescriptions, and other papers handled, Dean is getting wheeled out, scowling the whole way; he totally could've walked his own ass out, thank you very much. When they get to the main lobby, Cas pauses and leans down to murmur in his ear.

"Got a surprise for you. Just stay here for a minute."

Like Dean has anywhere to go anyway, so he stays put and watches as Cas walks out the front doors. A couple minutes later, Cas is walking back in, grinning like a child with a frog in their pocket to show off to their friends. He wheels Dean out without a word, and then Dean can't help but smile too, as he takes in the sight of Cas' Chevelle, pulled up and rumbling at the curb.

Cas rarely drives it because he doesn't like wasting gas with the stop-starts of city driving, and never really has time to take it anywhere else. Dean hasn't even had the chance to ride in it yet, and he'd love nothing more than if Cas would let him drive it sometime; they'd had a lengthy conversation about what's under the hood, and Dean may have popped an inopportune boner at how much power Cas had demanded it be fitted with when he'd had it restored. The thought of Cas knowing what to do with all of that had quickly turned into thoughts of Dean being pushed up against the hood, and well.

"Thought you'd prefer to ride in comfort. I know how you despise the Fuckus," Cas says, not offended at all by Dean's nickname for his daily car, and actually amused more than anything. "Plus, she needed to get revved up and moving for a minute, anyway," he winks suggestively.

Cas is the only person Dean's ever dated that hasn't made fun of Dean's attachment to his own car, because the man _understands_ , and it's a weird sort of kinship mixed in with a lot of feelings about how Dean almost fucked over something good, and before he realizes he's even thinking it, his mouth is moving.

"Christ, I love you."

They both freeze, Cas looking hopeful for just a flicker before he goes unreadable, and Dean panicking because _holy Hell, did he actually just say that because of a fucking car while he's sitting all pathetic in a goddamned wheelchair in front a hospital while he's perfectly capable of standing?_

Locking the wheels so Dean can't roll away, Cas comes around in front of him and holds out a hand to help Dean to his feet, emotions warring over his face. Once Dean's up though, Cas reaches for his other hand too, and carefully pulls Dean to him, so as not to upset his balance. Which is, admittedly, still a bit off.

"One more time. Please?" Cas whispers. "If you mean it."

Dean swallows thickly, but can't honestly find anything in him that says 'no.'

"Love you, Cas," Dean says quietly, voice cracking a bit at the end.

Blue eyes burn bright with that, looking relieved and thrilled and scared all at once, but a smile spreads across his face nevertheless. "Love you too, Dean," he says, grin so wide that Dean feels a shock at being able to be the cause of such a brilliant thing. He starts to feel guilty again about the fight they'd had, but pushes it aside, because like hell is he going to let himself ruin such a good moment.

"I think I'd like to taste your tongue. Right now." Dean smirks.

"Are you quoting me at me?" Cas asks, eyebrow quirked.

Dean chuckles and puckers his lips out exaggeratedly, relishing the fond eyeroll it earns him.

"Don't try to act like you're bothered. You love me," Dean says, unable to stop the cheesy grin pulling at his face.

Cas gives up and comes in for a quick but thorough kiss, ending it before it can get too heated. "Fuck yeah, I do," he purrs, not looking at all embarrassed at the admission.

"So. That mean I get to drive her sometime?" Dean asks, running his hand over the dashboard, once they're both in the car and buckled in.

"Hmmm. But you love me too, so do I get to drive Baby?" Cas asks smugly, glancing over as they pull out from the hospital.

The objection is quick on Dean's lips, more out of habit than anything, but he swallows it back at the last second, actually considering the question. "Show me you know how to handle this one, and yeah, I think you could."

Dean isn't expecting the loud HA! from the driver's seat and startles.

Cas slips a hand over Dean's knee. "Sorry, sorry, just…Sam owes me twenty bucks now."

"Excuse me?"

With a narrow-eyed glance, Cas seems to decide to share after a few seconds. "Apparently, you told him you'd let me drive Baby while you were out of your gourd yesterday, when he came to visit."

"Why would I tell him that?" Then Dean pauses, getting the feeling that he'd said something else he should've remembered. "What else did I say?" he asks, at Cas' guilty look. Crap, he barely even remembers seeing Sam the day before.

Cas grimaces a bit as the silence drags on, then finally clears his throat. "You might have um, told him you loved me? After you said it to me, too. And Sam claims that you maybe got a little emotional for a minute and you said something to the effect of wishing you could make babies with me on the hood of our cars, and then it got a bit convoluted when our cars should apparently have babies together, too."

The throb returns with a vengeance in Dean's head and he has to close his eyes as he feels every bit of blood in his body rush upward to flush his skin from his chest to the top of his head. Fuck, that might be the most embarrassing, gushy thing Dean's ever said, and he can only take a sliver of comfort in not remembering saying it. All the same, it's not enough to cool the fire on his face, and Dean would love to just evaporate right there on the spot. Jesus, was the love confession not enough, that he had to go adding freakin' babies to the blabbering?

"If it's any consolation, I think it's kind of adorable," Cas confesses after a minute. "I know you weren't all there, Dean, so I'm not taking it too seriously, okay?"

"Oh my god, can we please forget that that happened before my balls shrivel up and wilt away with all of my dignity?" Dean mutters.

"Of course. But I doubt your brother will be as accommodating," Cas teases.

"When did you two become all BFF?" Dean says gruffly.

Cas glances over with an unimpressed look that clearly says 'you're being a child', and turns onto the highway. Dean huffs, but drops it, knowing he isn't truly being mocked, or Cas wouldn't be driving him around and loving him and…

It might be sort of ridiculous, but the sentiment only really and truly hits him then, a good fifteen or twenty minutes since the words were uttered. Cas doesn't just like him or date him or put up with him; no, Cas fucking _loves_ Dean, and no one else has _ever_ said that to him. It's easy then, to blame the tide of emotions that sweep over him on leftover effects of the medication during his hospitalization, because honest to god tears prick at Dean's eyes. He quickly turns to look out the passenger window, needing to keep at least one embarrassing display to himself, and only absently noting that yes, he does indeed feel safe with Cas driving, if Dean can look away from the road without feeling paranoid. But then that becomes less an absent thought and more conscious in nature, and his stupid feelings have his eyes burning now as he tries to hold back tears. One slips out anyway, followed by two more, and he doesn't mean to sniff, but it happens, and Cas graciously pretends not to notice.

When they pull up to Dean's house, he's reminded that it isn't empty and he turns to Cas as the man shuts off the ignition. "Who's been taking care of Dash?"

"I have," Cas shrugs. "Hope you don't mind, but I stayed here last night so I could be around to walk him and all that."

Dean shakes his head, not caring. There's a reason he'd given Cas a spare key, after all. "No, that's fine. But who's taking care of Peanut and Booger?"

Cas huffs a laugh, amused for his own reasons at the conversation, apparently. "My neighbor, Charlie. You should meet her sometime. I think you two would get along well."

Dean hums and nods, then reaches for the door handle. Cas tsks at him, insisting that he wait so Cas can help him out, to make sure he doesn't lose his balance, and Dean humors him, figuring it's the least he can do.

They get into the house with little fuss, Dash looking fit to piss himself with excitement at seeing his owner again. Dean chuckles and flops down on the couch, happy when Dash jumps up to sniff and lick and paw excitedly at Dean, while Cas goes to the kitchen. Eventually, Dash seems to realize that Dean is real and okay and not moving anytime soon and settles onto Dean's lap, while Dean channel surfs for something to watch on the TV. Cas comes back out a few minutes later with two plates of roasted chicken, potatoes, and broccoli, and drinks for both of them, handing one off to Dean before sitting down next to him and settling in. Dash knows better than to try and mess with Dean while he has food in his hands and jumps down to beg silently with shiny brown eyes and barely-there presses of a tiny paw to Dean's leg, from the floor.

"How do you ignore that?" Cas says, head tilted toward Dash.

"Because I have to," Dean sighs. "I'm sorry, little dude, but you know the rules about people food," he says to Dash.

Dash somehow looks even more pitiful at that, and Cas shakes his head. "Damn. I am a _professional_ that's well aware of the risks of feeding dogs table food, and it still hurts to look at."

"Would you chew me out if I admit that I let him lick the plate sometimes after I'm done eating, if it isn't too greasy?" Dean asks with a grimace.

"No, I think that's an acceptable compromise, though it might also be a bit of a tease unless there's a small slather of mashed potatoes included," Cas replies.

Dean grins and shrugs, not deigning to answer because Dean may have felt _too_ bad a few times and let Dash have a bite of his meat from his sandwiches.

Cas admits that he didn't cook the dinner, and that Bobby's wife, Karen, had brought it over to have ready for when Dean came home, and Dean isn't surprised. They talk lightly throughout their meal, pointedly avoiding the subject of their spat, and Cas still doesn't bring out the 'told you so' that Dean keeps waiting to hear. By the time their plates are on the floor and being happily cleaned by a tiny tongue though, Dean is dying to know why Cas hasn't said anything and finally just asks.

"We don’t have to talk about the thing, like, in detail. But…why aren't you bringing it up, either?" Dean asks, knowing how disorganized it sounds, and hoping Cas knows what he means.

It takes a minute for Cas to decide how to answer. "Are you trying to ask why I haven't said I told you so?"

Nail on the head, then.

"Uh, yeah, pretty much."

Cas leans back in his seat and looks at Dean with a sort of emotional tiredness drifting over his features. "Because I didn't want to be right, Dean, so it gives me no sense of victory. And I'm fully aware that you've been beating yourself up over it all, enough on your own. You don't need me to rub salt in the wounds."

If Dean wondered before, he's sure now, that his boyfriend is too good for him.

"Stop that. You're self-flagellating and I don't like it," Cas cuts into Dean's thoughts. "There may be room for improvement, but we aren't broken, Dean. We had a spat, your co-worker is a fuckhead, and the county owes the hospital a chunk of cash for treating you for wounds that will heal with relatively little problem. It could be so much worse, so I'd rather we just move on, if that's okay with you."

Huh.

"Yeah, I think we can do that, Cas. I'll try, anyway," Dean says with a reassuring grin, hoping Cas understands Dean's throwback to their fight, and Cas' request back then.

Cas grins a little too, then, and grabs for Dean's hand. "Good. That's all I want, Dean. Well, and a promise that you'll be there for the birth of our Chempala."

Dean tries to glare at the way Cas' lips are fighting not to turn upward, but it's really fucking difficult.

"I thought we were ignoring that, and here you go making a freakin' portmanteau for our cars, you shit," Dean says, nowhere near as gruffly as he tried to sound.

Cas snorts a laugh and leans his head into Dean's shoulder, not seeming sorry at all.

 

 

 

**_Several months later_ **

 

"Why in the hell is it so busy in here? It's raining. People don't go out for breakfast in the rain," Dean grumbles, from their place in the line.

Cas loops his arm in Dean's and chuckles. "We're here, aren't we?"

Dean grunts and looks around the little bakery. There's only two tables left, and three people in line ahead of them. The déjà vu is ridiculous to the point that Dean wonders if there's some pagan god orchestrating some sort of Groundhog Day experience for them, just for shits and giggles.

The first two patrons in the line are a couple of college students, looking utterly hung over and droopy, who shuffle over to one of the tables as soon as they have their orders in hand, one of them getting back up to fix both of their coffees. The person in front of them is a guy in jeans and a t-shirt and a pair of work boots. Nowhere near enough information to figure out if he'll want the table. When he takes his order and goes over to the cream and sugar station, Dean steps up to the counter, rattling off his and Cas' order quickly, looking between the stranger and the worker behind the counter, just like that day a year ago.

Cas touches him on the elbow and they share a look as they both watch the guy turn to look at the seating area. Then Cas is grinning mischievously, and darting over to claim the last table in the place, just as gracefully as ever. Dean has to take deep breaths to keep from laughing at the unimpressed scowl on the stranger's face as he puts the lid on his coffee. His and Cas' order- a slice of blueberry pie, a cheddar bagel and sun-dried tomato cream cheese, and two coffees- comes up ready on the counter, and Dean wrangles it all into his arms before heading over to their table.

"This works much better when we're working together to get the table instead of racing for it," Cas muses, opening the lid on his cream cheese cup.

Dean gives him a grin and takes both their cups over to get them creamed and sugared properly, careful to remember whose is whose as he sets them back down on the table when he returns.

Just as primly as Dean remembers, Cas spreads his cream cheese, wiping his hands off on the napkin, while Dean forks up a bite of pie. It isn't any less enticing now than it was back then, when Cas traps Dean's leg between his knees and squeezes, that thrill at having Cas' attention returned still zipping up Dean's spine. Sure, Dean may be a bit scruffier than he was the first time, and Cas may be breaking in a pair of bright green Converse nowadays (since the blue ones finally fell victim to an unfortunate incident involving an incontinent Great Dane), but it's still familiar and _good_. Of course things haven't been perfect; no relationship is. But by god, Dean really has tried since the Walker incident, and it's been totally worth it. Cas looks up after a minute and catches Dean staring at him, but this time, Dean doesn't apologize for it.

"Happy Anniversary, Cas," Dean says softly, feeling affection curling around his heart as he takes in the room and the smells and the sight of his messy-headed boyfriend sitting across from him.

"Happy Anniversary, Dean," Cas returns, smiling just as softly.

Dean hums happily and takes a sip of his coffee, feeling totally content, if not still a bit sleepy.

"So, what do you think his story is?" Dean asks quietly, tilting his head at a middle-aged guy a couple tables over, who's been repeatedly looking out the window and checking his phone, intermittently.

Cas huffs a fond laugh and shakes his head. "You want me to do the thing? I thought that was your job."

"Yeah, Cas, do the thing," Dean grins impishly.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and feel free to come Tumble with [me](http://surly-cat.tumblr.com) :)


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